REINVENTING

ANTHROPOLOGY
Edited by
Del! Hymes

Vintage Books
A Division of Random House, New York
VINTAGE BOOKS EDITION, january 1974
Copyright © 1969, 1971, 1972 by Random House, Inc.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American
Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by
Random House, Inc., New York, and simultaneously in
Canada by Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto.
Originally published by Pantheon Books, a division of
Random House, Inc., in 1972.
Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data
Hymes, Dell H
Reinventing anthropology.
Ineludes bibliographies.
1. Anthropology-Study and teaching-United States-
Addresses, essays, lectures. 2. Ethnology-Addresses,
essays, lectures. 1. Title.
[GN43·A2H9 1974] 301.2 73-4512
ISBN 0-394-71953-0
Manufactured in the United States of America
 Contents

J. JNTRODUCTION
The Use of Anthropology: Critical, Political, Personal
Dell Hymes 3

n. THE ROOT IS MAN

"Bringing It AH Back Home": Malaise in Anthro-
pology
Gerald. D. Berreman
This Is the Time for Radical Anthropology
K urt H. Violff 99

In. STUDYING DOMINATED CULTURES

Skeletons in the Anthropological Closet
William S. Willis, fr. un
An American Anthropological Dilemma: The Politics
of Afro-American Culture
[ohn F. Szwed 153
Culture and Imperialism: Proposing a New Dialectic
Mina Dauis Caulfield 182

Truth, Duty, and the Revitalization of Anthropologists:

A New Perspective on Cultural Change and Resistance
Richard O. Clemmer 213

IV. STUDYING THE CULTURES OF POWER

American Anthropologists and American Society
Eric R. Wolt 251

The Life and Culture of Ecotopia

E. N. Anderson, fr. 264
 Contents VI

Up the Anthropologist-Perspectives Gained frorn

Studying Up
Laura Nader
Counter Culture and Cultural Hegernony: Sorne Notes
on the Youth Rebellion of the 1960s
A. Norman Klein 312
Toward an Anthropological Politics of Syrnbolic Forms
Sol W orth 335

V. RESPONSIBILITIES OF ETHNOGRAPHY
Personal and Extrapersonal Vision in Anthropology
Robert ¡ay 367
Sorne Questions About Anthropological Linguistics:
The Role of Native Knowledge
Kenneth Hale 382

VI. THE ROOT YSIvíAN:CRITICAL TRADITIONS

Anthropology in Question
Stanley Diamond 401
Toward a Refiexive and Critical Anthropology
Bob Scholte 430

NOTES ON THE CONTRIBUTORS 459

 The Use of Anthropology:
Critica]. Political, Personal
Dell Hy1'rzeS

Anthropology will survive in a changing world by allowing itself to

perish in order to be born again under a new guise.
-Claude Léui-Strauss (1966, p. 126)

Thou met'st with things dying, 1 with things newborn.

-i-Shoh.es-peare, The Winter's Tale, lII, iii

1
IF ANTHROPOLOGY did not exist, would it have to be
invented? If it were reinvented, would it be the anthro-
pology we have now?
To both questions, the answer, 1 think, is no. What, after
all, is this anthropology, that its absence would be noticed or
that cannot be done severally by its parts or by other disci-
plines? lf it is unique in its unifying perspective, where are
its holistic, integrating works? Does anyone write about "An-
thropology" as a whole except in the smorgasbord of text-
books or as a committee? If it has a natural unity, why does
its makeup differ so much frorn one country and riational
tradition to another, even from one department to another?
Who can read the program of the annual meetings of the
Association and find in it the profile of a science?Would an
objective ethnographer, observing organized anthropology
today, not condude that its structure reflects adaptation to
a past, not present, environment, that it is essentially a sur-
 Dell Hymes • 4

vival? That from the viewpoint of the next, last, generation

of the twentieth century, it will be found one of
the remains of crude old culture which have passed into
harmful superstition [of which] It is a harsher, and at times
evenpainful, officeof ethnography to expose ... and to mark
... out for destruction. (Tylor, [1871] 1958, Vol. 2, p. 539)

But, sorne will say, if anthropology did not exist, who

would do what anthropologists do? Without a tradition of
doing it, of course, sorne of it might be found not worth
doing; the rest could be distributed readily within a general
science of mano To be sure, if one had the present architec-
ture of the study of man with only anthropology missing,
something like academic anthropology might begin, as it
did begin, with the "unappropriated odds and ends of other
sciences" (Kroeber, 1923, p. 2), with "work that we are
doing now because no one else cares Ior ir" (Boas, 1904,
p. 523). But that is unlikely. The situation in which anthro-
pology found a niche as an academic profession in the
United States around the turn of this century is gone. The
implicit division of labor-anthropology on lndian .reser-
vations and in uncivilized places abroad, sociology at home
and in Europe-has quite broken down. The American
quietly interviewing and observing in a foreign community
today is likely to be a sociologist, a political scientist, a social
psychologist, or even an economist. The person tape-record-
ing African oral traditions may turn out to be a historian.
Conversely, the student wanting to study urban problems
or political power in the United States, or setting out for a
field site in Luxembourg, outside Paris, or near the Mediter-
ranean, is likely to be in anthropology.
The fact of the matter is that if the study of man were
being invented now, there would be no apparent need for
an entity corresponding to anthropology as we have it in
the United States today. lts organization is essentially arbi-
trary, in relation to the realities it studies, in terms of the
needs of both science and society. And whatever the internal
 THE USE OF ANTHROPOLOGY • 5

alignments of a freshly designed study of man, no portion

would be able to take or keep for itself a name such as
"anthropology," appropriate only to the whole. While no
one can wipe the slate suddenly clean and reinvent the
study of man from scratch, there are indications that a
reconstruction is, in fact, coming about rather steadily.
The prospects are unfavorable for the "anthropology" we
now have either to grow to fulfill its self-conception and
. aspirations, or to maintain its present formo Although con~
ceiving of itself as the science of man, it has never fully be-
come such, in scope of either subject matter or participation.
It is not a universal discipline; nor is it likely to become
one. Under its present name it carinot perhaps escape its
history as an expression ofa certain period in the discovery,
then domination, of the Test of the world by European and
North American societies.' Most of the world has done with-
out something called anthropology, seems willing enough
to forego it now, and can even be positively hostil e to it.
The very existence of an autonomous discipline that spe-
cializes in the study of others has always been somewhat
problematic. People everywhere today, especially (and
rightly) third world peoples, increasingly resist being sub-
jects of inquiry, especially for purposes not their own; and
anthropologists increasingly find the business of inquiring
and knowing about others a source of dilemmas-so much
so that sorne abandon the classical identity of the anthro-
pologist, preferring to say that one should study only one's
own kind.
When anthropology in the United States was implicitly
united around the study of the American lndian, most lead-
ing specialists in Indians were found within that circ1e,
and it led in pioneering necessary methods of study. Every-
one at least knew the names of the same ethnic units and
culture are as. That implicit source of cohesiveness is gone.
A hundred topical and regional orientations bloom beyond
any would-be gardener's control. A single goal to which all
lines of work can be said to conrribute can hardly be
 Dell Hymes • 6

articulated, and the various lines are commonly dependent,

each in its way, upon facilities, training, and cooperation
from outside official anthropology. Already it is clear that
only small departments, or departments artificially narrow
in control, can pretend to common purpose. Often enough,
departmental meetings must be confined to procedural de-
tails; an appearance· of harmony requires avoidance of
matters of intellectual substance.
We tend to take departmental organization for granted,
and the response of some in these troubling times is to cling
more tightly to it, in the name of "general anthropology,"
"standards," or some other code word for maintaining the
comfort of a status quo. Yet to do so is to reify something
that is rather recent, something that is largely a product of
the expansion of universities and of the role of the United
States in the world following World War 11. True, in the
United States today, anthropology is predominantly an
academic profession, organized in departments; but it was
an academic profession in many places before it had depart-
ments of its own; it was a profession in museums and gov-
ernment before it was academic; and it was a scientific
tradition before it became professionalized at all. The he-
gemony of departmental anthropology is relatively recent,
and, it begins to appear, a transitory stage.
One factor is that the number of anthropologists outside
departments grows steadily, and an influence proportionate
to their numbers, when it comes, will markedly change the
consciousness of the field. More generally, the needs, both
scientific and social, to which anthropological research can
genuinely speak transcend departmentaland even academic
limits. It is in the nature of anthropology that it can fulfill
itself only as a universal possession of mankind. The crux
is whether or not adherents of the partial anthropology we
now have can look beyond present structure to a greater
tradition and find new forms to realize it.
The future of anthropology in the United States is thus
a question of whether its present institutional context, es-
 THE USE OF ANTHROPOLOGY • 7

sentially the graduate department, will preve to have been

chrysalis or coffin. If anthropology remains confined there,
it may wax as an instrument of domination, wane into ir-
relevance, or-more likely--combine both fates. It is un-
likely to contribute much to the liberation of mankind.
The issue can be stated with a further pair of fundamental
questions. How much of what goes on in departments.is for
the sake of mank ind's self-knowledge (let alone liberation),
and how much for the sake of perpetuating, extending, and
propagating departments? How much of anthropology is as
it is today because of a genuine need for anthropology, how
much because of the requirements of institutions in which
anthropology finds itself?
Too many questions, too many objections, many will sayo
Forget the difficulty of defining anthropology or even of
identifying it. We have a certain tradition, a certain ethos.
Let anthropology be what anthropologists do. Sol Tax was
wise indeed when he defined anthropology (1955) as simply
an association of people who have agreed to continue in com-
munication with each other. Why ask if our anthropology
could be invented now? It's enough that it has been in-
vented. It has grown and prospered, and continues to grow
a little even.in these hard times. We deal in actual worlds,
not speculative ones, and this actual world is good enough;
we manage.
This book is for people for whom "the way things are" is
not reason enough for the way things are, who find funda-
mental questions pertinent and in need of personal answer,
those for whom security, prosperity, and self-interest are
not sufficient reasons for choices they make; who think that
if an official "study of man" does not answer to the needs
of men, it ought to be changed; who ask of anthropology
what they ask of themselves-responsiveness, critical aware-
ness, ethical concern, human relevance, a clear connection
between what is to be done and the interests oí mankind.
Prosperity, after all, is not necessarily a sign of a pro fes-
sion's intellectual health. The present appearances of an-
 Dell Hymes . 8

thropology may be deceptive. Though a small discipline, it

does have, relative to its own past, many departments, many
students. But. spread of departments may be merely spread
of a cultural pattern within the academy, a momentum of
imitation, not fresh response. Current attractiveness to
students may be due to a superficial, quickIy sated, interest
in the exotic or to a serious interest that meets with disap-
pointment.
There is a certain tradition, a certain ethos, yes, and it
informs our concern, or we would not speak of reinventing
anthropology rather than of abandoning it. But much has to
change, to be rethought from the foundation, .if what has
invigorated anthropology at its best is to survive. In one
sense, anthropology is indeed a continuing association, is
what those who associate do. But everything depends on the
boundaries set to association and on the directions given,
as Tax himself said (1955, p. 326). If the mold oE depart-
mental anthropology rernains unchallenged and unchanged,
then not only will anthropology not be reinvented, it will
disappear. Not the name, not professionals calling themselves
"anthropologists," but a reason for being, a relationship be-
tween the "mythical charter" of the field as a "science of
man," for man, and actual practice. "Anthropology" will
indeed be "what anthropologists do," and what they do will
be a hodgepodge of vested interests, in which those who care
about the true interests of mankind will find little place.
No one in this book seeks to impose answers in these
regards; rather we seek to help build a: community in which
answers, not necessarily the same for all, can freely be found.
We think that such a community is, in fact, being built to-
day, partly publicly, often enough privately and quietly.
There is genuine indication that anthropology in the United
States is being reinvented and that the next generation will
see its transformation. The surge of reconsideration, of
which this book is but one instance," indicates in itself that
one period is coming to an end, another emerging. The
present form of anthropology answers, 1 think, to the pie-
 THE U SE OF ANTHROPOLOGY • 9

diction made to another purpose by Robinson ]effers

([1939] 1965, p. 63):
There is a change felt in the rhythm of events, as when an
exhausted horse
Falters and recovers, then the rhythm of the running hoof-
beats is changed; he will run miles yet,
But he must fallo

Here is the sense in which this book may de serve the

descri ption "radical." 1t attem pts to go to the root of anthro-
pology itself, as an institutional fact, and considers the pos-
sibility of its disappearance. Sorne anthropologists, radical in
other respects, are not so in this, in that they take for granted
the maintenance of a separate anthropology, .even assigning
it a special eminence (e.g. Moore, 1971). If many of the
theoretical issues debated in Marxist, socialist, and radical
circles (these being overlapping) do not find expression
here, the book is radical in a sense that Marx would approve,
indeed demando It does not hesitate to question the ap-
pearances of its own world, seeking to comprehend histor-
ically and to transform the structure underlying thern."

II
There are many traditions in anthropology. A museum or
department of any age has one that partly defines a distinc-
tive culture, and it would be the strength of a serious history
of anthropology to touch on the individual contexts in
which anthropology has grown, ~nd to capture something
of their "structures of feeling"-the lived cultures of the
particular times and places, and the selective traditions that
join one to another (d. Williams, 1965, pp. 64-66).
1 sha11 sketch here what 1 believe to be the "great tradi-
tion" in which anthropology participates and within which
it should seek its future in serving mankind. One might caH
the tradition itself "anthropology," but only if one bears
 Dell Hymes • 10

in mind that the tradition transcends organized disciplines

and named boundaries. Official anthropology may be its
servant but never its sole custodian, can be a center of it but
never the circumference. Not all "anthropologists" serve it,
and many who do bear other labels. This being the case, in
fact, whoever adopts and furthers the tradition has precedent
for claiming a part in it and for invoking the name. Indeed,
the logic inherent in the tradition is to become universal,
not only as to what is known of man, but also as to participa-
tion in the community of knowers.
The tradition is complex and has a checkered history, as
will be seen, but it can be stated simply: "The general prob-
lem of the evolution of mankind." It was stated in those
words, with that emphasis, by Franz Boas (1904, p. 523) in
an essay to which I shall want to return several times. Boas
is perhaps remembered now mostly as a name, except by
those whose work continues to build on his (as is the case for
students oí several American Indian languages and cultures)
and by historians. In his professional life, and for a while
after his death in 1942, his figure dominated American an-
thropology. The 1904 essaywas written within a few years of
the launching of the American Anthropologist on its pres-
ent career (1898) and of the founding of the American
Anthropological Association (1902), in a period when men
who were to shape academic anthropology in the United
States were getting degrees with Boas in the department he
had founded at Columbia.
Boas has been much discussed for his ideas and scholarly
methods, but very little for his work as an organizer of
anthropology. (The important exception is in the work of
Stocking [1960, 1968].) Yet his intellectual impact depends
in part on the fact that he worked at the center of a crucial
period, when the base of anthropology shifted from govern-
ment museums and private sources to theuniversity, a period
of the institutionalization, and one might say, domesti-
cation, of anthropology as an academic discipline in this
country. Boas saw the beginning of a process of which
 THE USE OF ANTHROPOLOGY ··11

we begin to see the end. Such a figure, viewing something at

the point of formation, against a larger history, may see
more clearly and more wholly than those who later take
the new formation for granted. This seems to me true of
Boas in this essay. Now that the formation once again can-
not be taken for granted, the essay seems pertinent in ways
ir could not have been during the intervening years.!
Commenting on the students attracted to anthropology
in the years before he wrote, Boas said (1904, p. 522):

The best among them weregradually permeated by the funda-

mental spirit of anthropologicalresearch,which consistsin the
appreciation of the necessityof studying all forms of human
culture, becausethe variety of its forms can alone throw light
upon the history of its development, past and future.
On the origins of anthropology, he remarked that early
observations of other peoples by themselves remained curi-
osities (1904, p. 514):

It was only when their relation to our own civilization be-

carne the subject of inquiry that the Ioundations of anthro-
pology were laido
There are then two primary moments in the constitution
of a general anthropology: interest in other peoples and
their ways of life, and concern to explain them within a
frame of reference that includes ourselves. Following Boas,
who here follows the Enlightenment and its nineteenth-
century successors,one adds: concern for explanation within
a developmental perspective, a developmental perspective
that comprehends the many diverse lines of human history
in terms of the growth of rational command of the realities
and resources of human life, toward ultimate fulfillment of
human potentialÍty.
Let me expand on the character of these three aspects of
anthropology, as background to an account of what their
history suggests for our present prospects.
First, interest of the sort that matters here is not the
 Dell Hymes • 12

automatic result of contact with others-many journeys

show only pursuit of trade, conquest, pleasure, escape. The
interest requires some mode of description, one that may be
generalized and used at home as well as abroad. Concern to
explain must go beyond stereotypes and pigeonholes ("sav-
ages," "Stone Age tribes"). It requires some mode of com-
parison, in a frame of reference that can comprise a11cases.
Anthropology may begin in curiosity and savor the specific,
but it leads ideally into universality-ideally, a concrete
universality that mediates between the particular and the
general, whether in the phonology of languages or the his-
tory of peoples. Boas was himself always clear as to the two
orientations, indeed motivations, within anthropology, as
within other sciences-the one seeking the uniry of general
laws, the other attracted to the unity of complex phenomena
(1904, p. 16). The ultima te concern of the anthropological
tradition, then, is with both "common humanity anrl diverse
cultures," to use the title oí an excellent essay on tne ált~,.~:
(Kluckhohn, 1959), to explain both the similarities and the
differences in the condition of mankind, to get at what is
common thro.ugh the differences that have arisen through
the interaction of men with external nature and each other
in different settings.
To be more concrete, this general anthropology seeks to
illuminate both what is cultural and what is Navajo about
Navajo culture, what is true of Navajo because it is a lan-
guage, what true because it is the language of the Navajo,
what is recurrent, what specific to the Navajo as a popula-
tion and as a people in history.
Concern with only what is common, with similarities,
universals, may constitute a philosophical anthropology, a
psychology 01' biology, characterizing man as an abstract
being. Concern with only the general contour of develop-
ment, general laws, 01' a single lever of explanation, may
constitute a sociology or history of a certain kind. Concern
with only what is different may yield precise ethnography
and ethnology. N either kind of concern alone can constitute
 THE USE OF ANTHROPOLOGY • 13

the anthropology of the tradition in tended here. And at

their worst, the one-sidedness of the one may lead to the
imposition of a priori notions, distortion, and the rational-
ization of injustice; that of the other may never .rise aboye
exoticism or may devolve into sterile empiricism.
Second, in its concern with "the fundamental thought of
the development of the culture of mankind as a whole"
(Boas, 1904, p. 514), the tradition in tended here implicates
the "philosophy of history," in one sense of that termo It is
a sense not in much repute and one cultivated by even the
greatest of anthropologists only apologetícally." Yet what
we know as anthropology grew out of the emergence of the
"general problem of the evolution of mankind" in the En-
lightenment, and has informed what we trace as anthropol-
ogy throughout its subsequent history. As Boas' essay shows,
to solve the problem of the philosophy of history empirical1y,
rather than speculatively, was the great motivation for him,
as it had been for Tylor and Morgan. Those who do' not
acknowledge assumptions about the course of history make
assumptions about it nevertheless, assumptions perhaps
made pernicious by being suppressed.
It is obviously in the nature of the dimension of human
life central to anthropology-the cultural-to implicate
historical process. No attempt at explanation in anthropol-
ogy can escape historical assumptions (Kluckhohn,' 1946);
sociocultural phenomena can neither be reduced entirely to
external conditions nor extricated from the matrix of
change. Thus far, of course, one might have only particular
lines of evolutionary history. The general problem involves
sorne view of the whole. Diamond (1963, 1964a, b) has
trenchantly shown that major anthropologists, seeking sorne
general context and meaning for their work, have always
broached sorne view of the course of human history. Boas,
Lowie, Kroeber, Sapir, Whorf, Redfield, White, Steward,
have all done so. Individual views differ in their weighting
of two emphases that Diamond calls "prospective" and "ret-
rospective"-the one a focus on the possibilities of a ra-
 Dell Hymes 14

tional future, freed from past superstition, prejudice, war,

and want, the other a focus on a renewed sense of the possi-
bilities of human nature and culture through knowledge of
cultural worlds already formed. The tone may be varyingly
optimistic or pessimistic. Yet life is impossible without some-
thing for which one can hopeo Recognizing ourselves as
members of an emerging world community, we cannot avoid
hope (or despair) for it. When we study local communities,
we cannot escape assumptions, open or hidden, as to that for
which they hope and as to what can be hoped for them.
The general problem, then, is not simply empirical-what
has occurred; nor only methodological and theoretical-
how to study what has occurred, how best explain it. It is
also a moral problem, a problem of one's commitments in,
and to, the world. Anthropologists have indeed commonly
thought of themselves as belonging to the "party of human-
ity" (d. Gay, 1971, pp. 262-90), and the world view Gay
ascribes to the Enlightenment, a passionate rationalisms and
a tragic humanism, is not alien to anthropologists. It is, 1
would urge, the view best suited to them.
Let me try to avoid possible misunderstandings. To speak
of the "general" problem of human evolution does not mean
, to indulge in purely abstract or a priori schema, with regard
to either past or future. Boas himself (1908, p. 7) stressed
explanation of differences and the interest of actual histo-
ries, as well as generallaws. And to speak of the evolution of
mankind, although it implies a concern with the outcome,
does not imply a belief in inevitable progress. "Progress"
can, in fact, be used to rationalize environmental destruc-
tion and social waste, open or covert oppression. It would
be hard not to agree with the conclusion of a leading scholar
(Manuel, 1965, pp. 161-62):
In the midst of universal dread of nuclear annihilation,
worldwide social revolution, interriecine racial wars, the
spectacle of fat-Iand inhabitants committing suicide by over-
feeding and of barren lands incapable of preventing the mass
starvation of their hungry, the assurances of the prophets
 THE USE OF ANTHROPOLOGY • 15

of the new spirituality [he includes four seemingly diverse

groups-theologians, neo-evolutionists, neo-Marxists, and
modern cyclical theorists] often seem Utopian, even a hollow
joke. The victims of the twentieth-century slaughterhouse
refuse to believe it.
Yet the tradition in tended here requires a conception of
the future, indeed a "Utopian" conception (taking "Uto-
pian" in the positive sen se of a projected ideal, not the
negative sense of an unrealizable dream) and a theory of
progress as well.? That requirement withstands the wide-
spread repudiation of what have been known as philosophies
of history, not only by scholars of historical thought (such
as Manuel), but also by analysts of historical methodology.
Interest in such analysis has grown rapidly, and anthropol-
ogists have much to learn from the results. Yet 1 do not
think the tradition in tended here has been shown to be
untenable; rather, 1 think it can be shown to be inescapable.
Let me consider a representative book, the best 1 know.

ON THE PHILOSOPHY
OF HISTORY

Danto ([1965] 1968, p. i i) quite .rejects substantive phi-

losophies of history:

Using just the same sense of significance as historians do,

which presupposes that the events are set in a story,
philosophers of history seek for the significance of events
before the later events, in connection with which the former
acquire significance, have happened. The pattern they project
into the future is a narrative structure.f
Such critiques appear to be directed at certain famous
nineteenth-century instances, especially Marxism (the one
specified by Danto). That the anthropological tradition is
implicated appears to escape notice. The criticism is not al-
ways fair to men in the tradition being rejected. (Scots En-
lightenment figures such as Adam Ferguson and Adam
 Dell Hymes • 16

Smith, Victorian evolutionists such as Tylor and Morgan,

and the pivotal figures, Hegel and Marx, anticipated, but
did not prescribe, the narrative of the historical future.) The
true force of a Marxian approach is not simply determinis-
tic, but rooted in a conception of man as creative and emerg-
ing into freedom through the labor process (d. Marx [1857]
1964, pp. 84-5; Das Kapital, Vol. I, Part 3, Ch. 8, section
1; and Stern, 1949, pp. 342-43); not directed essentially to
an apparent pattern of history as a whole, but to the under-
lying structure of relations and causes as manifested in con-
crete situations, a point brought out by Lévi-Strauss (1953,
p. 61).9
The critiques further seem to share an assumption that we
are best without any substantive philosophy of history at all.
In this they reftect, one suspects, aclimate of opinion that
welcomes the "end of ideology," for which philosophies of
history, "Utopian visions," threaten despotism and sacred
wars conducted in their name. In this view, celebrated in
the 1950S(d. Smith, [1964] 1971), one should accept present
American life as the best of possible worlds, and there could
be no responsible disagreement over ends. Today many view
alternative conceptions of what society can be as essential.
The threat of totalitarian control in the name of a concep-
tion of the future is to be answered by open participation in
formulation and criticism of what goal s constitute genuine
progress, what conditions for the realization of goals are ac-
ceptable costs. To scorn conceptions of this sort (especially
among scholars and movements for change) is to play into
the hands of those who are already busy shaping our future
by their power to implement their own. Every government,
every political force, has some avowed philosophy of the
history it seeks to realize. Are those intelligent enough to
analyze philosophically to withdraw from civic life or be-
come mindless or cynical servants of powers that be?
Danto himself remarks (p. 14) that "scientists make unex-
ceptionable claims on the Iuture, as do all of us in practical
life." He Iurther holds that the explanatory part of a phi-
 THE USE OF ANTHROPOLOGY • 17

losophy of history (such as Marxism or evolutionary anthro-

pology), when not connected with a descriptive part (i.e., a
narrative projection), is not a philosophy oí history in the
sense he rejects, but a contribution to social science.'? But
if, as scientists and citizens, we make claims on the future,
grounded in theory, but without a script written in advance,
do we not, in fact, act in terms of a substantive philosophy
of history? Is not the important distinction among substan-
tive philosophies of history between those that are open-
ended and those that are closed?
Indeed, the fallacy would seem to be in critiques of sub-
stantive philosophy of history which, while purporting only
to explica te the normal practice of historians, have the effect
of severing connection between history and the future, so as
to make not only a philosophy of history, but also meaning
and rationality in ordinary life, logically impossible. True,
the significance of events, their meaningfulness, may depend
upon their relation to la ter events (as argued by Danto); it
may be only in terms of such a relation that significance ap-
pears. But it is not the case (as assumed by Danto) that the
relation must be that of certain knowledge of a later state
of affairs. The significance of past or present events may ap-
pear in relation to a conceptual vantage point, whose te m-
porallocation is immaterial. Where the later states of affairs
are in the future, the relation may be ene, not of foreknowl-
edge, but of anticipation; not of augur y, but of feedback. If
such a relation is granted in science and practical life, then
it has a place in comprehension of the present in relation to
the Iuture as part of "the general problem of the evolution
of mankind." Its place is a matter of the place of scientific
and practical rationality in shaping human history. The
difference between science, practical affairs, and our efforts
to comprehend and make our own history is a difference of
degree, not oí kind.
If, indeed, we cannot certainly know the next chapter,
yet must anticipate it; cannot promise the overcoming of
destruction and degradation, yet must work toward it; can-
 Dell Hymes • 18

not guarantee a future state of affairs, yet can affect the odds
by knowledge of such patterns and causal relations as history
affords; if both in anthrópological work and personal lives,
we cannot avoid assumptions as to how the future will un-
fold from present change; if the very choice between scholar-
ship and social action implies an assumption as to the time
remaining to a way of life; then there seems no alternative
but to integrate into anthropological work an explicit
concern with the philosophy of history. Only so can the
assumptions of our work be integral with the assumptions of
our lives. For what can 1 hope? What is its relation to what
is known of the course and bases of human history? These
are questions we cannot escape.
We are told often enough that sorne epistemological,
ontological, ethical theory is inevitably implicit in human
life, and urged to come to an explicit understanding of our
own premises in these regards, since we cannot avoid prem-
ises. We should be told the same with regard to the philoso-
phy of history. Explicit understanding can indeed give
foundations and direction to what may otherwise appear an
infinite regress of relativity, , when epistemological, onto-
logical, and ethical questions are raised (d. Scholte's essay
in this volumej.t! The stereotype of past philosophies of
history can be jettisoned by insisting on substituting realistic
terms in any characterization: for "narrative," one can sub-
stitute "plan"; for "timeless Utopia," "agenda"; for
prophesy," "rational hope": for "the meaning of history,"
"meaningfulness in history" and the chance of constructing
it.
In sum, a vital philosophical connection between human
history and the human future seems clear and necessary. A
special contribution of anthropology is to represent the
claims of the "retrospective" view in any synthesis (d.
Diamond's paper in this volume, and the conclusion of
Diamond, 1963); to serve, in the spirit of Boas (1904, p. 524),

as a check to an exaggerated valuation of the standpoint

of our own period, which we are only too liable to consider
 THE USE OF ANTHROPOLOGY • 19

the ultimate goal of human evolution, thus depriving our-

selves of the benefits to be gained from the teachings of other
cultures and hindering an objective criticism of our own
work.P

1 have dwelt on the justification of a philosophy of history,

because 1 think that the justification of anthropology re-
quires it. It is not only that the two share a common origin
and development; ir is a question of any possible future for
anthropology. Eric Wolf is, 1 think, right when, m con-
cluding a fine book, he states (1964, p. 96):
The anthropological point of vantage .is that of a world
culture struggling to be born. As a scientist, the anthro-
pologist both represents its embryonic possibilities and works
to create it. If that culture fails, so will anthropology ... .13

The foundation of that point of vantage and effort lies in a

philosophy of history.

AS TO THE HISTOR y
OY THE TRADITION

Let me now highlight the development of the tradition

in which anthropology participates, as it leads to a view oí
anthropology's future.
Boas himself singled out Herder as honored precursor,
as did Kroeber, Lowie, and Sapir at other times, and Herder
is indeed the seminal Enlightenment figure in the German
tradition, aman who developed a sympathetic understand-
ing of the validity of diverse cultures that echoes in Boas
and among ourselves. Boas' citation of
Herders Ideen zur [PhilosoPhie der] Geschichte der Mensch-
heit [1784-1791 ],14 in which perhaps for the first time the
fundamental thought of the development of the culture of
mankind as a whole is clearly expressed

is verbally interesting in two respects: "Fundamental" (or

"foundation") seems to recur whenever Boas mentions the
conception he (and 1) take as the basis of anthropology, and
 Dell Hymes • 20

"Philosophie" is omitted from Herder's title. Indeed, al-

though Boas found (1904, p. 514) "the fundamental concept
of anthropology well formulated by the rationalists who pre-
ceded the French Revolution," he excused himself from dis-
cussing sueh work (1904, p. 513):
The speculative anthropology of the eighteenth and of the
early part of the nineteenth century is distinct in its scope
and method from the sciencewhich is called anthropology
at the present time and is not included in our discussion.

The road, in fact, goes further on. We have no adequate

history of anthropolgy and no account of anthropologists'
consciousness of their history, but individual anthropolo-
gists have many diverse reasons for tracing individual strands
to one or another early point in time. Relevant observations,
significant data collection, may begin in the mid-nineteenth
century in sorne parts of Oceania and the New World, but
reach back to any century sinee the fifteenth in others (with
sorne of the best work in the sixteenth): and, for sorne
regions, to medieval times or to classical antiquity. The
history of a problem may go back in a similar way-that of
the origin of the American lndian and the peopling of the
Americas has a significant history since the sixteenth cen-
tury (d. Rowe, 1964; Huddleston, 1967).
Affinities of method, theory, or spirit may bring an earlier
writer into one's personal pantheon-Montaigne's relativ-
ism, for example (though he has claims, too, as a collector
and ethnological commentator), StoThomas Aquinas' reso-
lution of the relation between the local and universal in the
realm of law, Lucretius' naturalism in explaining the ori-
gin of culture. Still, a decade or so ago, active consciousness
of a general anthropology did not usually go ba~k beyond
Boas and other academic founders, save for a few major
figures, notably Powell, Morgan, and Tylor, of the latter
part of the nineteenth century.
Awareness of the formation of anthropological and ethno-
logical societies in the first part of the century has since
 THE U SE OF ANTHROPOLOGY • 21

grown.(Tax, 1955; Stocking, 1971b), together with a sense of

the "ethnological" question that so concerned the period
(d. Gruber, 1967, 1970; Stocking, 1972). At the same time,
general scholarship and a number of anthropólogists have
rediscovered the central relevance of the eighteenth-century
Enlightenment, revaluing the seminal role of Rousseau,
for example, and recognizing once again the common origin
of the modern social sciences, among them anthropology,
there. (Cf. LeClerc, 1972, appendix; Diamond, 1964a, b;
Gay, 1969; Voget, 1968, 1969-70.) A few efforts have begun
to trace the general story through the whole history of Euro-
pean exploration back to the Renaissance (Hodgen, 1964;
Rowe, 1964, 1965; Slotkin, 1965). And sorne have recognized
the place of classical antiquity (Kluckhohn, 1961).
The fuIl story, 1 believe, does begin in the Greek En-
lightenment of the fifth century B.C.-not from a search for
the earliest possible ancestor, a classical train ing (1 nave
none), or a plain liking for Herodotus (1 do have that), but
because, if one takes seriously various conditions for the
emergence of anthropology that have been proposed, various
indications of the presence of anthropological interest that
have been suggested, then classical antiquity, beginning with
the Greeks, is indeed the first case. The spatial horizon was
not the whole world, but it was a sufficiently dí verse world.
Exploration, trade, and migration had flourished in the
seventh and sixth centuries B.C., as the Greeks ranged the
Mediterranean and Black Seas, and the experience was re-
flected in a development of geography and in literary
rderences (as when Prometheus' peak, in Aeschylus' play,
overlooks a vast arc of the peoples of the world, just as the
fall of Milton's Satan was to do). The temporal horizon was
greater for Plato than for most Europeans before well into
the nineteenth century, for Plato speculated in terrns of
evolutionary developrnents over nine thousand years. There
was also-and this would seern indispensable-sorne sense
of distance from received tradition, in consequence of in-
ternal social and intellectual change. Alongsíde ethnographic
 Dell Hymes • 22

curiosity and information, there had developed an inde-

pendent intellectual life and serious reftection on funda-
mental questions; attitudes toward received beliefs ranged
from rationalization and skepticisrrito replacement.
In this context arose universal conceptions of physical
and of human nature, and a sense of human diversity and
history as being subject to inquiry. There were instances of
explanation in terms of invariant relations between human
natures and environment; reconstruction of earlier stages
of cultural history through the comparative method; ethno-
logical inference on the basis of linguistic affinity; natural-
istic explanation of the evolution of man and culture (Democ-
ritus' lost Lile 01 Hellas, if Lucretius' On the Nature 01
Things does derive from it): and the_beginningsof scholarly
continuity (around Aristotle and his successor).Institutionali-
zation of anthropological inquiry failed to occur (except
marginally, in respect to the useful arts of medicine and
geography, and as an aspect of national history), but for a
time the possibility of a Herodotus and of occasional succes-
sors did exist. Compiling rather systematic ethnology and
integrating it into a world history-the story of the confron-
tation of East (Persia) and West (Greece)-Herodotus set
a precedent which first expressed "the fundamental thought
of the development of the culture of mankind as a whole."
1 suggest that this was the first moment of greatness in
the tradition in tended here, the assumption being that
"greatness' does not mean beyond criticism, but has to do
with what was done with what there was to work with, has
to do with the opportunity that was seized. Herodotus did
not, of course, escape his times or his personal outlook, but
he accomplished something decisively greater in human
scope and rationality than anything before. Each subsequent
period that we can think of as marked with greatness will
resemble his, in that an opportunity was seized lO find order
in newly perceived diversity, to try to explain a new horizon
of knowledge in regard to human nature and culture,
against a background of a sense of the inadequacy of re-
ceived perspectives, and of a hope for the future.
 THE USE OF ANTHROPOLOGY • 23

After a new and wider wave of exploration, after a strug-

gle against received tradition, European leaders of the
Enlightenment arrived at new formulations of "the funda-
mental thought of the development of the culture of man-
kind as a whole," conceived in terms of the "history of
manners" and "natural history." Various theories of so-
ciety's evolutionary stages (commonly four) were advanced
and debated (Herder among others cited execptions to uni-
linear evolution), and a consistent "cultural materialist"
explanation was given by men such as William Robertson
and John Millar. They had indeed not only a descriptive
concept of culture Cmanners and customs"), but also a
theoretical one (phrased in terms ·of "education" by Buffon
and others, and with the term "culture" itself by Hobbes
and Pufendorf in the late seventeenth century, as by Kant,
Herder, and others in the late eighteenth). The principal
figures were conscious of a debt to classical antiquity, but
also of a distinct advantage-knowledge frorn the new ho-
rizan oí the New World, and remoter Africa and Asia,
requiring to be integrated into a general view.
The first part of the nineteenth century saw continuing
exploration and ethnography, the formation of anthro-
pological societies, the rise of a Romantic re-evaluation of
national traditions, folk cultures, and the Middle Ages.
Attention was focused on the origins of particular peoples
and on the question of the original unity of mankind. A
"typological" evolutionary perspective (civilized vs. savage,
with grades between sometimes of "semicivilized," "bar-
barian") continued to be assumed, notably in America (see
Pearce, 1953, Chs. 3-5). The next great period, the Vic-
torian, was coincident with the last surge of European divi-
sion and domination of the world. Writers were conscious
already of a loss of pristine erhnography." The felt iriade-
quacy of received perspectives is suggested by focus on in-
stitutions of law, inheritance, marriage, and is clear in the
approach of Morgan to property, of Tylor to religion (d.
Burrows, 1966; Diamond, 1964a; Stocking, 1971b). The
principal figures were conscious of eighteenth-century
 Dell Hymes . 24

precedent, variously citing Montesquieu, Lord Kames, Mil-

lar, and so on. They were conscious also of a distinct advan-
tage-knowledge of the great age of mankind, extending to
a prehistoric condition more primitive than that of any
contemporary people. In regard to this new horizon, which
stimulated both him and Morgan in their major books,
Tylor wrote ([1871] 1958, p. 54):

Criticizing an eighteenth-century ethnologist is like critieizing

an eighteenth-eentury geologist. The old writer may have
been far abler than his modern eritie, but he had not the
sarne materials. Especially he wanted the guidanee of Pre-
historie Archaeology, a departrnent of researeh only estab-
lished on a seientifie fooring within the last few years.

The first part of the twentieth century saw an anthro-

pology that, as it became institutionalized, had grown
continuously in works and workers. Conscious criticism of
rereived tradition was, of course, present. Underlying the
diversity of the period are two common elements of speciai
importance to us here, for it was, I think, also a period of
greatness in the study of the "general problem of the evolu-
tion of mankind." First, evolution was not so much studied
as assumed (on this, more below). Second, it was a period
like its predecessors, associated with knowledge of a new
horizon, requiring to be integrated into a general view. The
horizon was not in space, as with the Enlightenment, nor
in time, as with the Victorians, but in ethnography itself.
The principal figures were, naturally, conscious of nine-
teenth-century precedent in the ordering of ethnographic
data, but also of a distinct advantage-a new quality of
knowledge through their OWll practice. What marks the
period most of all is that its principal figures were thern-
selves field workers, unlike most Victorians or Enlighten-
ment writers- generally. More precisely, over the course of
the generations encompassing the work and training given
by Boas and his students, and Malinowski and Radcliffe-
Brown and their students, the academically respectable
 THE U SE OF ANTHROPOLOGY • 25

terms of discussion of other ways of Iife changed. One can

see it through the years in journals. Problems of personal
bias and a priori description would remain; but a combina-
tion of personal practice and public critique changed stand-
ards of description and comparison irreversibly. The
accomplishment can be called methodological relativismo (It
is linked with what Willis in his paper in this volume calls
scientific antiracism, and Benedict's Patterns of Culture
[1934] is its main public expression in the United States.)
The shift in accepted practice should be seen as the fun-
damental contribution of the period, for the tradition in-
tended here, although it was made often unrernarked in the
midst of overt controversy over the "superorganic" concep-
tion of culture, "functionalism," historical method, and the
like. Boas, Sapir, and Kroeber established new standards for
describing and discussing languages in terms of their "own
genius"; Malinowski established new standards for field
work to describe cultures in terms of their own internal
relationships. AH were part of a common accomplishment
in dealing with units, patterns, and relationships in concrete,
yet universally relevant, detail. That accomplishment
should not be sold short today for failings in the self-con-
scious theoretical efforts of those who brought it about, for
it (serious ethnography) is the main asset cultural and social
anthropology bring today to a unified social science."
The period since World War II has seen great growth in
anthropology in personnel and geographic range." In the
study of human evolution as a whole one may find a final
expansion of horizon, as it were, in time, through intensified
comparative studies of primates, as well as through geneti-
cally oriented research that deepens the explanation of
human nature. In prehistory one may sense a new precision
in scope, integrating new data with new modes of interpre-
tation in a domain unchaHenged by others. In cultural and
social anthropology there is often enough spurt and spirit,
but due, at its best, to stimulation from without (linguistics,
mathematics, psychology, ethology), and, at its worst, to a
 Del! Hymes • 26

mistaken impression of novelty due to isolation from other

fields and ignorance of prior developments in their own.
Most of the best work has been a development of "method-
ological relativism" in both American and British varieties,
aiming at improved description of cultures in their own
terms and through their own eyes (or minds, as it were),
and at fuller understanding of the principles of organization
in communities of which kinship is the major matrix and
metaphor. (Lévi-Strausshas described his work in this regard
as a continuation of that of Engels! [1963, pp. 339-40])
Evolutionary conceptions have indeed returned to prom-
inence, just as such conceptions carne into prominence in
the latter part of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.
But this time the prominence is not associated with a new
horizon, consciousness of advantage, or any mark of great-
ness that comes from wrestling with new data and problems
in tension with a cultural need. For, despite theoretical
controversy, the conception returned without much struggle
simply because it had never been lost (d. Bock, 1956). The
heralded repudiation of cultural evolution by Boas and
his students was a repudiation, not of general evolution,
but of particular accounts of it and of a particular mode
of explanation on which they were based (d. the necessity
of modern Marxist thinking to repudiare particular simpli-
fied accounts and models of explanation developed within
officialMarxism [Hobsbawm, 1964, pp. 19-20,64-65]). Dern-
onstration of exceptions to postulated sequences of uni-
versal development became a "paradigm" in the generation
Boas shaped, as his Eskimo evidence that abstract primitive
art need not develop out of naturalistic art was followed by
examples from rules of descent, social groupings, religion,
and so on. Inconsistency between classificationson the basis
of race, languages, and cultural traits had exposed simplis-
tic thinking about named peoples as eternal evolutionary
units (Boas, 1904, p. 518) and encouraged closer-grained
study of historical relations in geographically controlled
settings, a kind of study for which Boas' work on .the 1890S
 THE USE OF ANTHROPOLOGY • 27

folk tales on the North Pacific Coast established the para-

digm in American anthropology (d. Spier, 1931; Chaney,
1972, pp. 2-3). (Historical-geographical perspectives indeed
flourished in many disciplines and countries in the decades
just before and after the turn of the twentieth century).
Attention was Iocused on specific processes of change (which
might lead to general laws of change) and indigenous pat-
terns in terms of which historically acquired traits were
reinterpreted and ordered (the Boasian form of methodo-
logical relativism in the sphere of culture [d. Hymes, 1970]).
But Boas and the Boasians remained evolutionists in the
typological sense. The Boas who wrote The Mind 01 Primi-
tive Man to demonstrate the potential equality of all man-
kind still retained a clear conception of "primitive" vs.
"civilized." His chapter headings said as mucho The great
Boasians who shared his views were not ernbarrassed to
write books with such titles as Primitive Society (Lowie,
1921), Primitive Religion (Lowie, 1924), Primiiiue Mon as
Philosopher (Radin, 1927), or to give courses and scientific
lectures on "primitive languages" (Sapir; Whorf). When
Leslie White and others pointed out the obvious and ines-
capable after World War II, there was a collapse within a
few years of what had seemed an impregnable, hard-won
position of science (d. Bock, 1952). Now almost everyone
could be a cultural evolutionist again.
How much has changed, however, beyond the change in
status of the term "evolution" itself, from taboo to popu-
larity? Not enough, 1 think. Anthropological evolutionary
work has corrected fundamental flaws of the preceding
period in certain respects, but the future of the discipline as
a whole is bound up with an as yet parcial. and ambiguous
response to others.
In developing universally adequate descriptive concepts,
many participants in methodological relativism tend also
to level or reduce them. No difficulty appeared in the
sphere of language, when phonological and grammatical
categories and processes were recast, so that Kwakiutl and
 Dell Hymes . 28

Takelma, Greek and Latin, could be seen as cases within a

common framework. In the sociocultural sphere categories
such as "law," "politics," "religion," also were given definí-
tions such that all applied equally to all communities. It
became difficult to speak of differences in complexity or
adequacy of institutions, and particularly difficult to recog-
nize the emergence of levels of organization such as the tribe
and the sta te. The movement was in part against the ethno-
centric side of evolutionary thought, an impulse to defend
in "primitive" communities the existence of valued cate-
gories that European bias had often denied them ("no laws,
no religion, no sta te, no X"). But the paradigm tendency
sometimes overreached itself, as when the putative discovery
of private properry in hunting and gathering bands was la ter
shown to have reflected, not aboriginal conditions, but in-
corporation in the Iur trade. (See Leacock's important mono-
graph, 1954.)
The revival of the evolutionary perspective has provided
a framework for correcting these flaws. Ecological and eco-
nomic determinants gained new prominence; levels of
sociocultural integration and development were restored to
legitimacy and significance; and much worthwhile work
has been done. In regard to the "general problem of the
evolution of mankind," however, great limitations appear.
It is from the vantage point of political science, economics,
sociology perhaps, that the period since World War II has
appeared as a new horizon, providing knowledge from the
expanded sphere of American interests and personal re-
search. Anthropologists have been part of this expansion of
American social science, however much they have wished
to dissociate themselves from it, playing little effective
critical role.
Sorne may recall when it was standard fare in intro-
ductory anthropology courses for the instructor to set up
and shoot down in turn series of stock fallacies, having to
do with a unilinear set of evolutionary stages or with sorne
single center of cultural diffusion, and to attack ethno-
 THE USE OF ANTHROPOLOGY • 29

centric biases associated with such fallacies as false and de-

meaning to the creativity of most of the world's peoples.
Just such modes of thought became the stock in trade of
much of what passes for social science in public life in the
generation of anthropology's great expansion since World
War 11. Yét anthropologists who bridled at explain-
ing aboriginal cultures in such terms had little to say when
polítical scientists, sociologists, economists, administrators
(and perhaps sorne anthropologists), explained contemporary
third-world societies in such terms. Put aside here the triune
evolutionary model rhat has helped shape Reisman's The
Lonely Crouid, McLuhan's Understanding Media, and Mar-
garet Mead's Culture and Commitment. The common coin
has been "developed" vs. "underdeveloped," or "modern"
vs. "traditional." 1 submit that these are equivalents to the
"civilized" and "prirnitive" of a preceding era, still a polar
evolutionary model, combined often enough with the notion
of a center oí diffusion to less fortunate peoples, (For the
early ethnologist Elliot Rivers, the center was Egypt; for us,
it 1S ourselves.) Why is it that anthropologists, so well
equipped to expose the error of such thinking in Englishmen
and Marxists, have been so little heard from as such think-
ing proliferated all about them?
What it suggests is a trained incapacity to rise aboye one's
professional subject and into the modern world and a view
of anthropology as equivalent only to ethnology. One per-
haps thinks seriously about the relationship before Euro-
pean discovery between aboriginal Oceania and Southeast
Asia, but not in the same terms about the relationship today
between the United States and either. The Boas who de-
nounced World War 1 and the covert use of anthropologists
as spies, and whose last words expressed his lifelong fight
against racismo as part of what he saw as the general mis-
sion of anthropology, would much more likely have been
consistent. Another possibility, not in conflict with that
preceding one, is that most anthropologists view the modern
world, and the place of their society in it, in terms not much
 Dell Hymes . 30

different from the typological, polar evolutionary thinking

that has persisted throughout American history, as American
society has had, with troubled conscience, to come to terms
with the peoples and ways of life it has dominated and often
enough destroyed. (Again, see Pearce's penetrating account
of the settler's view of the savage and Indian as admirable
and doomed [1953]' Have not many anthropologists made .
analogous assumptions about cultures and peoples today
so that phenomena of the sort reported by Clemmer in this
volume can surprise them?)
Anthropologists have only partIy broached a new horizon
peculiarly proper to themselves. The new horizon has to do
with Wolf's thesis that "the anthropological point of
vantage is that of a world culture struggling to be born."
It has to do with a challenge to realize the implications
of anthropology's own regulative idea, that of culture.
Throughout most of the career of anthropology, the cul-
tures of the world's peoples have been thought of in terms
of a model of differentiation (not to exclude a common
underlying basis). Boas phrased it thus (1908, p. 7):
Anthropological research leads us to two fundamental ques-
tions: Why are the tribes and nations of the world different,
and how have the present differences developed?
The interest might be in tracing an original unity as well
as explaining the. differentiation. The diversity might be
thought of as a laboratory, a field of independent cases, or
as an irreplaceable mirror to ourselves (Lévi-Strauss, 1966,
p. 27). The model retains sorne value, but it has given much
of anthropology what Mintz (1970, p. 14) has called its own
"preoccupation with purity," by which people influenced
by "civilization," especial1y "Western civilization," are less
interesting, and people superficially like ourselves least in-
teresting of all.
Houses constructed of old Coca-Cola signs, a cuisine littered
with canned corned beef and imported Spanish olives, ritual
shot through with the cross and the palm leaf, languages
 THE USE OF ANTHROPOLOGY • 31

seemingly pasted together with "ungrammatical" Indo-

European usages [Mintz has Caribbean Creoles in mind], all
observed within the reach of radio and television-these are
not the things anthropologists' dreams are made of.

Yet, Mintz points out (1970, p. 14):

we have begun to learn that it is the carriers of these cultures,

both as victims and aggressors, who are asking today's ques-
tions, and providing irresistible answers. It becomes no longer
a matter of what we shall do for them, but of what they must
know, and have, in order to do for themselves. The search for
an anthropology concerned with the widest issues of modern
life has hence paralleled the search of the Westernized for a
voice in the modern world.

There are Indian communities in the United States where

no one (until just recently) has ever gone to study the ,vay
of life as it was at the time he or she was there; where the
amalgam and direction of actual life are invisible (d. Fon-
tana, 1968). The problem is a long-standing one. There was
strong resistance to publishing studies of acculturation in
the official journal in the 1930s, on the ground that they
were "not anthropology." Some anthropologists stopped
studying Indians in the 1930s, because they had become just
like any other minority group. There are today more and
more exceptions to the picture Mintz paints, yet the image
of anthropologists as exclusively students of "distinctive
others" remains de epl y ingrained.
Much of my own work is in the "distinctive other" tradi-
tion, and will continue to be, but I think that anthropolo-
gists who insist on it do anthropology a disservice. On the
one hand, to take the study of a distinctive cultural tradition
seriously entails, as Boasians insisted, a considerable com-
mitment, including the kind of command of language one
expects of a classical or Oriental scholar. There is a peren-
nial place for the thorough scholarly commitment to any
cultural tradition, but not for the "hit and run" tactics of
many field workers.l" On the other hand, justifications for
 Dell Hymes • 32

this image of anthropological research, other than long-

term humanistic commitment, hardly hold water.
The most common claim is the necessity of "culture
shock" and objectivity in the study of a culture very dif-
ferent from one's own. Objectivity and culture shock, first
of all, are somewhat in conflict.l'' The more objectivity, the
less likely the culture shock. Culture shock itself can be most
powerful when one discovers how difEerent and distant one's
own coHeagues, neighbors, or fellow citizens are in their
view of the world. (Hortense Powdermaker reported that
she first understood the power of taboo, not in Polynesia, but
later in a southern American town.) The relativistic object-
ivity sought from field work has been gained by many his-
torians and philosophers through the centuries without
field work (d. Collingwood, 1939, p. 180). It is true that an
outsider may notice what an insider takes for granted, but
ethnographic research increasingly depends not on irnpres-
sions, but on systematic inquiry of a sort that gives great
advantage to members of the culture themselves (d. Hale's
paper in this volume). It can be argued that contributions
penetrating enough to be theoretically significant are most
likely to come from study of the cultural circumstances of
which one has the most and most rapidly available back-
ground knowledge, namely, one's own.
In short, it is not a sufficient reason to study another cul-
ture simply because it is "other." Ethically and politically,
too, there must be good reasons to inftict yet one more
American inquirer on another part of the world.
Instead of taking for granted that a doctoral candidate
in anthropology will do (exotic) field work, let us require
candidates to demonstrate that they should be allowed too
Most of all, the model of so much of the anthropological
tradition-diversification-is anachronistic. It bespeaks the
period of the peopling of the world, by Cod or migration:
Who are they? Where did they come from? What were they
put there to tell us? The relationship oE cultures and com-
munities in the world today is dominantly one of reintegra-
 THE USE OF ANTHROPOLOGY • 33

tion within complex units. Cultural anthropologists are

perhaps better off Ín this respect than linguists, whose rich
development of comparative-historical method for a century
and a half is entirely adapted to studying the results and
processes of diversification, at a time when genetic diversi-
fication of language may almost never happen again. Lin-
guists have hardly any means (though sociolinguistics is
beginning to provide sorne) for understanding, even seeing,
the major processes of change among languages today, as
they become specialized into niches relative to one another,
in multilingual communities, educational systems, new
nations, and so on. Nevertheless, relative failure to see the
ways of life of American Indian reservations as their cul-
tures now) novel unities shaped by historical experience of
a century or more (d. Walker, 1972); the inability to see
the reality of Afro-American culture (see Szwed's paper) or
foundations of resistance and rebellion (see papers by Clem-
mer and Caulfield)-such things point to an inadequate
sense of the nature of culture itself. In origin, the met-
aphor of culture (as in Hobbes and Pufendorf) did indeed
imply cultivation, as did the related use in German of
Bildung; it was a processual termo Too often today we im-
plicitly think of culture as what is completed, as works, not
the working, to recall W. von Humboldt's discussion of
language as ergon (product), not energia (activity).
The answer to this problem, at once theoretícal and
practical, was given, 1 think, by Sapir, when he separated
the notion oí culture from the notion of shared heritage and
referred it to the processes of interaction in which identity
and personal meaning emerge ([1934J, 1949, [1938J, 1949; d.
Aberle, 1960; Hymes, 1964, p. 29, n. 8; 1970, pp. 265-68;
1972b).20In effect, Sapir showed that the degree to whieh a
cultural feature is shared, although important, is not part of
its status as a cultural Ieature. That status depends not upon
the faet, but upon its capacity for being shared. A poem
written down and kept in one's drawer is cultural, whether
or not it is ever known to others. It was perhaps the achieve-
 Dell Hymes . 34

ment of Tylor to help establish the notion of culture m

terms ofmankind as a whole (d. Boas 1904, pp. 516-17), and
of Boas to help establish the study, in their own terms, of
human cultures (d. Stocking, 1968, pp. 69-90). Our task may
be to establish the study of the cultural as a universal and
personal dimension of human efforts toward the future.
It is, after all, only in terms of such a conception of the
culture as emergent, as potentially sharable as well as
shared tradition, that we can understand our own situation.
We are all in the situation of those in "traditional" societies,
whose "modernization" we often considero The homes in
which we were born are frequently houses now tom down;
the church in which we married is now a parking lot; the
streets in which we played, the bits of water by which we
mused, are mutilated or gone; where we live now probably
is not where we will die. If the need of much of the world
is to transform itself economically in order to achieve sorne
parity of power and well-being, we, too, must often share
in the need to forge new self-identities, to cope with new
relations among cultural Ieatures, in order to salvage sorne
kind of meaningfulness and symbolic self-preservation for a
lifetime. We are all challenged and undermined by tech-
nological changes instituted by forces outside our control,
forces which may take no note of our traditions or aspira-
tions.
We have, then, everywhere the interplay between the
cultural as traditional and the cultural as ernergent. This is
to touch upon an old theme, known by various names-
Gemeinschaft vs. Gesellschaft, "genuine" vs. "spurious" cul-
ture (Sapir), in part Diamond's "retrospective' and "pro-
spective" views. In the study oí language it has taken on
new importance in terms of socially organized ways of
speaking that cut across the dimensions of "languages," as
shown by Bernsteiri's much misunderstood notions of "re-
stricted" and "elaborated" codes (see the treatment in
Hymes, 1972a, b) and Habermas' analysis of the conflict in
modern society between the spheres of symbolic interaction
 THE USE OF ANTHROPOLOGY • 35

and the sphere of technologically or bureaucratically mo-

tivated instrumental cornmunication, the latter increas-
ingly invading the former (Habermas, 1971; Schroyer,
1971). The degree to which modes of communication are
explicit and self-correcting as to presuppositions, the degree
to which they permit the expression or assumption of per-
sonal meanings, the conditions under which persons can
gain access to the acquisition of kinds of communicative
competence or opportunity to display them in performance,
for which responsibility is freely taken-s-such questions go
to the heart of the contribution that a linguistics recon-
stituted in the spirit of the anthropological tradition would
address. (Despite their personal political radicalism or lib-
eralism, many linguists pursue a formalized, impersonal
linguistics that is itself cut off from the possibility of any
such contribution [d. Hymes, 1972b].) Such questions also
raise the general issue of the relation between conscious and
unconscious knowledge. Sapir early spoke íor the claims of
taken-for-granted, tacit knowledge and understanding
([1927] 1949, p. 559):
Complete analysis and the conscious control that comes with
a complete analysis are at best but the medicine of society,
not its food.

Harris, reviewing Sapirs writings a decade after his death,

gave perhaps the best gIoss (1951, p. 330):
Which means: Don't take it as food; but also: Do take it as
medicine.s-

The opportunity, then, is this: to employ our ethnographic

tradition of work, and such ethnological insight as informs
it, in the study of the emergence of cultural form in concrete
settings and in relation to a world society. It is an oppor-
tunity comparable to those recognized and taken in the
periods passed in review, whose greatness consisted in
. comprehending a new horizon as part of the whole, and of
advancing self-understanding through analysis of the bases
 Dell Hymes • 36

of the whole of human culture, thus enlarged. The horizon

for us is not essentially remo te in space or in time, nor in
deepening of our practice (although all these may be in-
volved), but in learning to see the shape of the cultural, and
the forms taken by cultural identity, as they emerge and
constitute our future ..
This opportunity challenges the isolation of anthropology
within itsdepartmental traditions of recent generations. It
gives new meaning to Boas' comment on "the general prob-
lem or the evolution of mankind" (1904, p. 523):
We may still recognize in it the ultimate aim of anthropology
in the wider sense of the term, but we must understand that it
will be reached by cooperation between all the mental (i.e.,
social and cultural) sciences and the efforts of the anthro-
pologist.
To the organizational challenge, on which the outcome
of the scientific and social challenge depends, let me now
turno

III
The future of anthropology, it was said aboye, depends
upon whether its present institutional context proves chrys-
alis or coffin. Let us quickly review the present situation
in terrns of its fundamental factor-what anthropologists
are trained to do and what, we hope, they are able to do.
In the first decade of this century, Boas could both con-
trast anthropology's ultimate aim "in the wider sense of
. the term" to its more restricted actual scope and be precise
about the latter (1904, p. 523; d. 1908, p. 9):
The historical development of the work of anthropologists
seems to single out clearly a domain of knowledge that he re-
tofore has not been treated by any other science. It is the
biological history of mankind in all its varieties; linguistics
applied to people without written languages; the ethnology
of people without historie records; and prehistoric archaeol-
ogy.
 THE USE OF ANTHROPOLOGY • 37

Boas couId al so be frank about the unprincipled basis of

anthropology's doma in (1908, p. 9):
It will be recognized that this limitation of the field of work
of the anthropologist is more or less accidental, and originated
because other sciences occupied part of the ground before
the development of modern anthropology.

And he couId be frank about the dependence of anthro-

poIogists on other fieIds in their actual practice (19°4, p.
523):
It is true that these limits are constantly being overstepped,
but the unbiased observer will recognize that in all other
fields special knowledge is required which cannot be supplied
by general anthropology.

Hardly anyone would recognize the substance of those

characterizations of three generations ago as anthropology's
"assigned special task," as its "clearly singled out" domain
oí knowledge. (The contents of the American Anthropolo-
gist and of the meetings of the American Anthropological
Association show as much.) One finds in many anthropology
departments today a commitment to the form of that char-
acterization, the fourfold gospel-biological, linguistic, eth-
nological, and archaeological. Yet w i th in each of the Iour
fieIds "special knowIedge is required which cannot be sup-
plied by general anthropology."
Competence in two of the four fields have long required
external support for facilities and training (biological arid
linguistic anthropology). Indeed, Boas foretold their separa-
tion as parts of biology and linguistics, because of their
specialized methods (1904, p. 523):
Problems may be set by the general anthropologist. They will
be solved by the biologist. . . . 1 think the time is not Iar
distant ... when linguistics and biology will continue and
develop the work that we are doing now because no one else
cares for it.

The archaeology-prehistory quarter has also become increas-

ingly interdependent with geology and other natural sci-
 Dell Hymes • 38

ene es, for dating, identifications, and control of interpreta-

tions, and with various sectors of humanistic disciplines, for
work in classical, medieval, colonial, and industrial ar-
chaeology. Such interdependence also ho~ds for genuine
competence in the various aspects of cultural or social
anthropology, even if cultural and social anthropologists
are not always willing to grant it. Whether research is or-
iented topically ("economic anthropology," "psychological
anthropology," "anthropology of religion," and so on) or
regionally (West África, Latin America, etc.), essential
parts of the training are not available within anthropology
departments.
The plain fact is that there are such things as "political
anthropology," "econornic anthropology," "anthropology
of religion" only because there is such a thing as "anthro-
pology." They exist because of the organization of academic
life, not the organization of reality. Guiana does not have
one politics for anthropologists, another for political sci-
entists; Latin America does not have one economics Ior
anthropologists, another for economists; there is no theory
of religion that is anthropological, as opposed to sociological,
or to the understanding of rel igion developed by students
of thehistory of religions. If religion is a"single subject, it is
the same subject for all. Too often our publications and
eareers ha ve been built on the ploy of a putative contribu-
tion to the "anthropology of X" or "X anthropology." These
are sometimes legitimations of new topics, no doubt, but
legitimations required by a border-guard mentality. It is,
in general, as 1udicrous to speak of "theory in anthropology"
(in contrast to theory in all of social science) as it would be
to speak of "linguistic theory (Bantu)" in contrast to "lin-
guistic theory (French)," as if the provenience of the lan-
guage called for a different general theory of language. Such
things belie the very conception of anthropology as a dis-
cipline universal in its eoneerns and in the openness of its
founding.P
Such provincial ism was not designed to frustrate and
 THE USE OF ANTHROPOLOGY • 39

fragment the contribution of a science of man to mankind,

but has that effect. The consequence of professionalism and
focus on disciplinary identity and growth is to divert much
of the energy of students of man to rivalry with each other
and away from human problems. The problem is obviously
general to the social sciences. One sociologist (Birnbaum,
1971, p. 131) writes in terms valid for ai:tthropology as well;
it, too, shares in
the general crisis of the social sciences, Originally intended to
apprehend human history so as to fulfill the history of man-
kind, the social sciences ... have broken down in two ways.
The intention of apprehending history has been renounced
in favor of a total capitulation to the scientific division of
labor; abstractly recognized, the historicity of mankind is
denied in scientific practice, This last contents itself with a
fragmented description of a fragmented reality. in the second
place, social science has become another instrument of
domination, rather than a mode of liberation. Not the least
contribution of those who sense themselves to be in the
[anthropological] tradition is the insistence that the original
humanist intent . . . be incorporated in contemporary
practice; not the least of ironies is the fact that [anthro-
pologists] are often as incapable as any others of realizing
that intent.P

What, then, can be done? A small step is to commit one-

self never to trade again on such titles as "anthropology
of X" and to accept that either one has something to say
about X or one does noto Beyond that, three general stra-
tegies seem possible: to retrench, to let go, to relax.
To retrench. One might return to Boas' anticipation that
soon (1904, p. 523):

anthropology pure and simple will deal with the customs and
beliefs of the less civilized people only.

Taking the prehistoric record of custom and belief into

account, "anthropology" would then be archaeology and
ethnology. Its subject matter, like its sometime claim to be
 Dell Hymes • 40

a general science, would be a stage of human history, not

the whole. There would be honesty and dignity in that
role, fulfilling the impulse to anthropology as the third
wave of the humanities, after classical and Oriental
studies, as the philology of peoples without philologies
of their own (d. Radin, 1933). The role of interpreter
of a stage and type of human culture is indeed well
established. (In Lévi-Strauss' phrase, when an object comes
to Paris whose code is known, it goes to the Louvre; when
the code is not known, it goes to the Musée de l'Hornme.)
One could return to the accurate titles of the turn of the
century, when a museum or monograph series could be ex-
plicitly concerned with "Archaeology and Ethnology."
This would be the choice of becoming a branch of history,
though still as a social science (Worsley, 1970, p. 128). It
would still involve its own lines of interdependence with
other disciplines (as in the third alternative). Many wish to
retain this aspect of anthropology, but 1 know of no one
who wishes to reduce anthropology to it.24
To let go. What, then, if the anthropological holding com-
pany is dissolved? Most of the component interests would
find equally appropriate lodging elsewhere. A strong case
could be made for departrnents of prehistory andjor archae-
ology, to which pertinent aspects of biology, linguistics, and
ethnology could be attached (paleontology, linguistic pre-
history, the historical ethnology of peoples investigated
archaeologically as well). Indeed, while 1 do not wish to
idealize prehistoric science, which can fall short of its. own
standards, and whose social basis sorne times opens it to
hazards, it is probably the healthiest component of anthro-
pology today. Cooperation is developed with other sciences,
a divison of labor within the subject is recognized, so that
there are places for each of the required talents: field work,
interpretation, teaching; the intrinsic value of the materials
studied is recognized and their preservation provided fOL
The scientific ideal of cumula tive, collaborative research is
perhaps better realized there than anywhere else in anthro-
pology."
 THE U SE OF ANTHROPOLOGY • 41

Human biology cannot exist without the facilities of pro-

grams in biology and medicine, and anthropologically
minded students of human biology could ftourish as well or
better there as among cultural and social anthropologists.
Students of language owe a great debt to anthropology for
its role in developing modern .linguistics, but whereas de-
partments of anthropology used to employ a linguist or two,
a better case might be made today that departments of lin-
O'uistics should employ an anthropologist
o . or two. It really
no longer makes much sense to pretend to train anthro-
pologists in "practical linguistics": it would make consider-
able sen se to train linguists in "practical ethnography."
What, then, of the cultural and social anthropologists?
These are, of course, the largest group, some of whom are
the most threatened by centrifugal tendencies, which would
deprive them of the illusion of a doma in of the study of man
of which they are intellectual overlords. No g-eneral rule
can apply.
Clearly, a social or cultural anthropology competent to
deal with contemporary societies must integrate itself with
the main line of social theory that has attempted to deal with
the shaping of the modern world-the line from Marx,
Weber, Durkheim, and others through to contemporary
sociology (on which d. Lazarsfeld et al., 1967; Colfax
and Roach, 1971), political science, economics, and aspects
of history and law. Conceptual integration with sociology
is indeed well under way. A good many social anthropolo-
gists accept that the theoretical basis of anthropology and
sociology must be the same (d. Worsley, 1970, p. 129), as
do many sociologists (d. Smelser , 1967, p. 20). A corollary
of this is that the attempt to distinguish "cultural" from
"social" anthropology must be abandoned.
As to individuals, some would prefer integrated social
science programs; others would prosper in settings that
facilitated research with one or another topical or regional
focus; still others would be at loss, unable any longer to
teach "introductory anthropology," "anthropology of X,"
and the like, and having instead to confront those great
 Del! Hymes • 42

symbols so often invoked, "man," "culture," "society,"

nakedly in a free market. The wisest would argue that
cultural and social anthropology have certain distinctive
strengths, born of their special concerns, but of general
value-especially, a critical perspective, due to a long-stand-
ing concern with the full range of human experience, and
the cultivation of a practice of personal research.
In the practice there is a traditional place for openness
to phenomena in ways not predefined by theory or design-
attentiveness to complex phenomena, to phenomena of in-
terest, perhaps aesthetic, for their own sake, to the sensory,
as well as intellectual, aspects of the subject (d. Kroeber,
1959). These comparative and practical perspectives, though
not unique to formal anthropology, are specially husbanded
there, and might well be impaired, if the study of man were
to be united under the guidance of others who lose touch
with experience in concern for methodology, who forget the
ends of social knowledge in elaborating its means, or who
are unwittingly or unconcernedly culture-bound.
Such an argument would renew Boas' early view of de-
partmental anthropology (1904, p. 523):

Conscious of the invigorating influence of our point of view

and of the grandeur of a single all-compassing science of
man, enthusiastic anthropologists may proclaim the mastery
of anthropology over older sciences that have achieved where
we are still struggling with methods, that have built up noble
structures where chaos reigns with us; the trend of develop-
ment points in another direction, in the continuance of each
science by itself, assisted where may be by anthropological
methods.

And again (1908, p. 10):

With the increase of our knowledge of the peoples of the

. world, specialization must increase, and anthropology will
become more and more a method [Boas' emphasis] that may
be applied by a great number of sciences, rather than a
science by itself.
 THE U SE OF ANTHROPOLOGY • 43

If, then, the justification for the maintenance, within the

general study of man, of the branch called "anthropology"
is that it husbands certain valuable methodological perspec-
tives (ethnological, ethnographicj.w the justification must be
also that these perspectives are freely available to the gen-
eral study of man; that "anthropologists" enter freely into
competition in method and theory in such a general study
of man, forsaking provincial claims; that the role of
"anthropology" as a named node within the structure of a
general study of man be accepted as one of mediating, not of
isolating, the "anthropological" part with respect to the
resto
This strategy is the most reasonable, inasmuch as "letting
go" of departmental structure, however much wished for,
will come but slowly. Throughout the country and across
the disciplines, the wish to break the "Iockstep of the de-
partments" is felt, but strongly resisted by those entrenched
within them. The strategy with regard to departmental
boundary maintenance, then, is:
To relax. The strategy has two aspects, one specific to the
official Iour components of anthropology, the other more
general. First, as to the relations of the components among
themselves, American anthropology and its departments
today are a social club, not a science or common discipline,
as Lloyd Fallers pointed out once to a distressed audience of
anthropologists. Social and cultural anthropology tends to
consider itself central and to domina te the other three. At
best, however, sociocultural anthropology stands in relation
to the other three rather as philosophy once did to physics,
psychology, and so on. It is an arena in which sorne general
ideas are maíntained, sorne problems defined, but not
where the work gets done, because it is not where the way
in which to do the work "is known. Early in this century,
sorne philosophers felt free to discuss the logical necessity
of a concept of "ether" in physics, and sorne sociocultural
anthropologists feel free today to define matters for special-
ists in the other 'three fields, even though the methods and
 Dell Hymes • 44

training of the latter have run through at least one revolution

since the sociocultural anthropologist's remembered grad-
uate days. A first move must be to get this particular monkey
off the back of the other three.s"
A second step is to abandon the pretense that students are
to master all four fields as an intellectually relevant matter,
Perhaps an honest admission that it is for social reasons-
one will be associating with such people within future de-
partments-would be a11right. And, of course, any student
with a reason for mastering relations among two or more
of the fields should be given every encouragement. But no
one should be forced to dissemble about it. Boas (1904, pp.
523-24) could maintain that the field anthropologist should
know the principies and results of linguistics, biological an-
thropology, and ethnologic-archaeological work (he joined
the two in this context), but the context of problems in
which he made the statement (essentially the history of
peoples) no longer holds for more than a few students. The
principies and methods which students may need to know
are immensely various from one to another. Yet, to a con-
siderable extent, obeisance to tradition, to the youthful
rites de passage of their professors, and the political claims
of each component, is exacted. This must stop.
A11thus far is, of course, with regard to departments con-
tinuing the fourfold schema. There is no compe11ing reason
for departments to do so-any one or more of the compo-
nents might be let go, depending on strengths outside a
department and the direction within it; and new depart-
ments can legitimately single out special patterns and direc-
tions of their own (as sorne have indeed done).
The nub of the matter is that the pretense of official co-
herence within anthropology acts as a barrier to the coher-
ence that minds free to inquire into problems might actually
find. Productive scholars know that problems lead where
they will and that relevance commonly leads across disciplin-
ary boundaries. Yet many an insecure academic compensates
for his own lack or loss of inte11ectual virility by making it
 THE U SE OF ANTHROPOLOGY • 45

difficult or impossible for students and junior colleagues to

benefit from theirs."
There are sure tests for this, tests for what may be
considered ideological and institutional, as against intellec-
tual, criteria of relevance. Intellectual criteria involve que s-
tions such as: "Can you prove it?" "What does it show?"
HIf you want to do that, you'Il have to learn X (a genuine
prerequisite)." "Where does it lead?" Ideological and in-
stitutional criteria involve statements such as: "That's not
anthropology." "That's all very well, but first you should
study X" (an unrelated subject, a tradition in the field,
favored by the person in question, or both). "You're not an
anthropologist if you haveri't donejstudied X." (To this
dichotomy should be added an intermediate category of
personally responsible answers, such as "1 don't know about
that, you should ask X" (who, in fact, does know) and
"That's an interesting idea, but this departrnent will never
let you do it."
In the early formation of departmental anthropology, the
watchword, "That's not anthropology" may have been use-
ful, somewhat like the union label; even though it violated
the openness and expansiveness one associates with the
early period, the academy had become the source of ern-
ployment, departments the form of the academy, and one
had to protect one's niche. Today one should react to the
utterance of "That's not anthropology" as one would to an
omen of intellectual death. For that is what it is.
Many of the best young people attracted to anthropology
today leave it, and the causes are not hard to find. They are
attracted by a vision of anthropology as a genuinely general
study of man and find it a patchwork of feudal baronies.
Recently 1 have met undergraduate students whose passion
for anthropology restores faith that such a thing can exist.
One colleague, initially suspicious of the students (the
context was one of internal rebellion) was affected in the
same way. Moved, he reflected that he had experienced that
same feeling of inspiration in anthropology once thirty
 Dell Hymes • 46

years before, in a summer spent in the field with Clyde

Kluckhohn; he had not encountered it since. The occasion
for the meeting was an internal crisis in a department
devoted to general anthropologyl-s-general anthropology de-
fined as four separate, equal subdisciplines, each equally
important, the requirements of each and of the set being
mechanically interpreted and imposed. (Younger faculty
were criticized for spending time with students on subjects
of special student concern, such as problems of ethics in
field work; that was "unprofessional" behavior.) Students
entering anthropology with a dedication to it as a general
field were being driven out of it. Entering with excitement
about anthropology as a context in which meaningful prob-
lems could be pursued where they led, they encountered
anthropology defined as atable of organization.
This analysis might be mistaken as a call for specialization
in narrow components. It should be clear that nothing could
be further from the truth. What is true is that even depart-
ments claiming to train in "general anthropology" hire in
specialties, often enough specialists with degrees outside an-
thropology (linguistics, folklore, geology, genetics). Never-
theless, the point here is to call for a general anthropology
that is an "organization of diversity," as opposed to a "repli-
cation of uniformity" (to employ terms introduced by
A. F. C. Wallace). The purpose is to denounce a bureau-
cratic conception of general anthropology, while advocating
a personal conception in the most vigorous terms. Given the
arbitrariness of institutionalized boundaries in relation to
human reality, the personal approach is the more adaptive-
if one's goal is truly knowledge."
The philosopher Collingwood once sought to describe the
defining characteristic of philosophy in these words (1933,
p. 184):
It .Iollows from the peculiar nature of philosophy that each
philosopher, if he genuinely does rnake his own contribution
to knowledge, cannot be merely adding another Ítem to an
inventory; he must be shaping afresh in his own mind the
 THE USE OF ANTHROPOLOGY • 47
idea of philosophy as a whole. And conversely, it is only by
attempting this task, formidable as it is, that he can make
any contribution, however modest, to the general advance-
ment of philosophy: for until he has confronted this prob-
lem, the work which he is doing, whatever else it may be,
is not genuinely philosophical work, since it lacks one of
the distinctive marks of philosophical thinking.

'These words apply to anthropology today, and have applied

to the best anthropologists throughout history. One person's
general anthropology need not be another's. There is no
single packaged anthropology to be served to one and all.
If the person attracted to anthropology has nothing of an-
thropological curiosity and reflectiveness, no training can
produce more than a walking textbook or loyal servant. If
the individual does have the spark of genuine inquiry, then
the purpose of training is to nourish that spark, to en-
able the individual talent to come to fruition, mastering the
particular skills and subjects required, and, it rnay be hoped,
ultimately reshaping sorne part of the tradition in the light
of the outcome. Though it may seem so to a bureaucratic
mind, individuation of training is not fragmentation, but a
way of enabling each to master his or her best vantage point
on the whole. One of the high costs of the bureaucratic ap-
proach is the teaching of the irrelevant by, and to, the
unwilling. In the approach in tended here, regarding lin-
guistics, for example, one student would be directed to
historical linguistics and language classification, another to
grammatical theory and psycholinguistics, another to dia-
lectology, another to forget about the subject altogether.
The true coherence of anthropology, then, is personal. It
is not official or bureaucratic. The issue is not between gen-
eral anthropology and fragmentatíon, but between a bureau-
cratic general anthropology, whose latent function is the
protection of academic comfort and privilege, and a personal
general anthropology, whose function is the advancement
of knowledge and the welfare of rnankind.
Herein lies a fundamental part of "reinventing" .anthro-
 Dell Hymes • 48

pology. Each anthropologist must reinvent it, as a general

field, for him or herself, following personal interest and
talent where best they lead. The legitimate purpose of an-
thropological training is to facilitare this process. lt has no
other.
Such a conception may be thought to erase the boundary
between anthropology and philosophy, not only with re-
gard to history, but quite generally. 1 think that the bound-
ary is indeed erased, if not by Collingwood's criterion, then
by the exigencies of the situation in which anthropologists
find themselves.The intellectual, political, and moral dilem-
mas facing anthropology call for refiection, analysis, and
commitment that transcend the role of ordinary scientist
or journeyman scholar. Unrefiecting perpetuation of present
practice will guarantee subservience to corrupt ends, sterile
obsolescence, or both. Sartre once addressed the question,
"For whom does one write?" Each anthropologist must ad-
dress an analogous question. By virtue of its subject matter,
anthropology is unavoidably a political and ethical disci-
pline, not merely an empirical specialty. It is founded in a
personal commitment that has inescapably a refiective, phil-
osophical dimensionoIndeed, the present surge of interest in
philosophical questions among anthropologists refiects the
widespread sense of political and ethical concern.

IV
The fundamental fact that shapesthe future of anthropology
is that it deals in knowledge of others. Such knowledge has
always implied ethical and political responsibilities, and
today the "others" whom anthropologists have studied make
those responsibilities explicit and unavoidable. One must
consider the consequences for those among whom one works
of simply being there, of learning about them, and of what
becomes of what is learned.
These responsibilities are widely discussed among anthro-
 THE USE OF ANTHROPOLOGY • 49

pologists, and it would be frivolous to pretend to settle the

serious disagreements that remain. 1 can only point to
certain dimensions of the problem that seem to me essential,
yet not always kept in mind.
We have to de al first with what Galtung (1967) has aptly
termed "scientific colonialism." His point is this: if by
"colonialism" we mean a situation whereby the center of
gravity of a nation is no longer in that nation itself, but in
sorne other nation, then the term has a scientific application.
Polítical colonialísm is well known, and economic colonial-
ism, whereby, despite political independence, Crucial eco-
nomic transactions are centered elsewhere, is becoming well
known. Scicntific colonialism is a process whereby the center
of gravity for acquisition of knowledge about a people 1S
located elsewhere.
There are many ways in which this can happen, One is to
claim the right of unlimited access to data from other coun-
tries. Another is to export data about the country to one's
own home country for processing into "manufactured goods,"
such as books and articles .... This -is essentially similar to
what happens when raw materials are exported at a low
price and reimported as manufactured goods at a very high
cost. The most important, most creative, most entrepre-
neurial, most rewarding, and most difficult phases of the
process take place abroad (p. 296).

Many anthropologists have recognized the inequity of

the practices that constitute scientific colonialism and have
initiated efforts to overcome them, seeking to publish in the
language of the country from which the data come, to pro-
vide reports of their work, to help train local researchers. So
much is only courtesy, though sorne have yet to learn that
mucho The lesson of Project Camelot has been fairly widely
learned, and earlier perhaps by anthropologists, who are
more likely to be sensitive to such a situation, than by social
scientists generally.30 Yet the more recent crisis concerning
anthropological research in 'Thailand'" shows that the
threat of the subversion of anthropology to the aims of
 Dell Hymes • 50

counterinsurgency is permanent in a country devoted to a

posture in the world of which Vietnam shows us only the
extreme of a continuum. Indeed, in the context of a thor-
oughgoing analysis of the relation of the United States to
the rest of the world as essentially colonial or imperial, one
would have to conclude that the Thailand controversy is
but the tip of an iceberg. The difference between counter-
insurgency and much ordinary research is not fundamental;
it is not that one is dan destine and the other not (the liberal
issue), but that one (Moore, 1971, p. 40):

is addressed to the counterrevolutionary aspects oí imperial-

ism while the latter is addressed ro techniques of economic
penetration.

In short, cui bono? Who is the public for one's research?

Who receives it and utilizes it, in tended public or not? It is
perhaps true that the Czarist re gime could not have bene-
:lted from reading Len ins State and Revolution, no matter
how many copies it obtained, but there are many instances
in which specific information about communities, and
simply general understanding of structures and processes,
redounds to the advantage of those at the topo It has become
generally recognized that information directly injurious
should not be provided, but there is a less obvious, more
profound obligation as well. It is to work toward ways in
which the knowledge one obtains can be helpful to those
from whom it comes. Not to do so is to be "neutral" on the
side of the existing structure of domination.
The basis of this view was well stated in the first para-
graph of resolutions proposed by the Radical Caucus at the
1969 Annual Meeting of the American Anthropological As-
sociation:
Anthropology since its inception has contained a dual but
contradictory heritage. On the one hand it derives from a
humanistic tradition of concern with people. On the other
hand, anthropology is a discipline developed alongside and
within the growth of the colonial and imperial powers. By
 THE USE OF ANTHROPOLOGY • 51

what they have studied (and what they have not studied)
anthropologists have assisted in, or at least aequieseed to, the
goals of imperialist poliey. It is becoming inereasingly ap-
parent to many that these two traditions are in eontradietion.

Such statements, and the actions that follow from them,

are often considered "political." They are. The di fficultY
is that many anthropologists have a double standard in this
regard. The usual practice of anthropology is regarded as
apolitical. It is not. At the meetings just cited a resolution
condemning renewed expressions of scientific racism was
passed and hailed with resounding applause. What ex-
pressed the taken-for-granted, "scientific" (i.e. apolítical)
views of the Association was noted with sorne disdain next
day in the New Orleans Times-Picayune, as the political
stand that it indeed was, for it expressed, I belíeve properly,
a union of knowledge and social values.
The instance is representative. On some matters there is
a bread consensus that might be labeled one of "liberal
hurnanism." Issues that speak to the general rights of man
or the plight of an underdog command broad support.
Though polítical in the world at large, within anthropology
they appear expressions of felt truth. An issue that departs
from present ethos or that reveals an unresolved split ap-
pears as politicization, particularly when concern for the
oppressed begins to lead to confrontation with the oppressor.
There has be en a surge of effort, generally applauded, to
protect peoples and their cultures from "progress" that
brings cultural destruction (ethnocide) and destruction of
identity, if not also of body.> There is also a surge of effort,
a controversial one, to study those who administer and
direct affairs." Unless this effort succeeds, anthropology,
though it may define its subject in other terms, will remain
mainly a defensive source of knowledge about the exploited
of the world for those who exploit them. The peoples whom
anthropologists define as scientific problems are commonly
regarded by administrations and governments as social ones.
But who is a problem to whom? An essential part of a
 Dell Hymes • 52

critical, truly general anthropology is not to leave such

definitions of the situation unexamined.
Who is the problem to whom? Whom does one's knowl-
edge help? What responsibility must one take for the out-
come of one's work? The questions are inescapable, yet the
answers are not invariant. I would hope to see the con-
sensual ethos of anthropology rnove from a liberal human-
ism, defending the powerless, to a socialist humanism,
confronting the powerful and seeking to transform the
structure of power. Yet one can have no iUusion of unanim-
ity on all issues. In World War 1, as Norman Thomas once
put it, socialists were killing each other as cheerfully as
Christians. The present divisions in the professedly socialist
world are notorious. More generally, anthropologists tend
to understand and sympathize with the particular peoples
they study. When the peoples are in conflict, so may be the
syrnpathies of anthropologists, whatever their general con-
victions. Biaíra was such a case, the Middle East is another.
Nor is it adequate to think entirely in terms of responsibility
to the community one studies (as Jorgensen [1971J does),
if ethical principies are joined to a radical purpose. What
of studies of bureaucracies and corporations? We tend to be
hypnotized by the situation in Southeast Asia or with In-
dians, where the bully and the victim are clear to uso But
most politically oriented anthropologists know at least one
government in the world whose interest they would defend
against sorne constituent community, even though their pref-
erence would be to mediate a dual responsibility. In a given
country three conscientious anthropologists might choose
three different loyalties-one to a government, one to a
group seeking to overthrow it or to secede from its control,
and one to a village that wished to be left alone by both."
Again, the cause of "making the world safe for anthro-
pology," as Adams (1971) seems to plead, is a narrow view
indeed; what crimes must be swallowed in the name of pre-
serving access to the field? Yet the claims of colleagues and
the claims of a community are both serious .ones. The
 TI-IE USE OF ANTI-IROPOLOGY • 53

difficulty is that we are subject to moral claims from more

than one source. We enter into personal relationships in
field work, but often enough with more than one group;
and we cannot ignore trust in our relationships with col-
leagues, in and out of out profession. Nor can we ignore
obligations to OUT families, which we might put ahead of a11
others. 1 know no calculus that do es not lead persons of
honesty and good wi11,after serious reftection, to considered
judgments that conftict as to where primary duty lies in a
given case. (Such people may indeed sense greater comrade-
ship with each other than with someone whose judgment
agrees with their own unreftectingly.)
1 nevertheless believe that there is a direction in which
one can work, and this is the ideal that Boas took the general
evolution of mankind to show in process ofrealizatíon (1g08,
p. 27): the enlarging of the moral community. The goal
affects anthropology in three ways. There is the role that
anthropology can play in building a world culture that is 2.
moral community-just the old struggle against racism has
far to go; there is the need to build as much of a world
anthropologicaI community as possible-a point whose im-
portance to ethical issues has been stressed by George
Appell (see Appell, 1971); and there is the relationship of
ethnography.
Many, none more eloquently than Wolf (1972), rightly
stress that this is not merely an instrumental relationship,
but a moral one. If there is to be a future for anthropology
in a democratic world, the ethnOgraphic relationship must
be developed as a mutualitynot only of trust, but also of
knowledge. Each person, after a11, is to sorne considerable
extent an ethnographer of his or her own world, having
acquired a tacit knowledge of it that must go far beyond
whatever is explicitly taught (d. Diamond, 1972), acquisi-
tíon of language being a salient example. An essential part
of ethnography is to learn, and formula te, what others al-
ready in a sense know. Heretofore, the ethnographer has
mediated between such specific knowledge and general
 Dell Hymes . 54

knowledge usually entirely in the direction of the latter, as

represented in a professional community and publications.
As far as possible, the mediation must go also the other way
-even primarily the other way. By helping members of a
community to comprehend social reality more explicitly
and generally, one may help people to employ what C.
Wright Mills called "sociological imagination" (1959) and
to be in greater rational control of their own destinies. Be-
yond this, one must follow the path urged here with respect
to language by Hale and seek to help members of local
communities themselves to participate in the work of an-
thropology. Anthropology must lose itself to find itself, must
become as fully as possible a possession of the people of the
world. This is a long and difficult road, but if we do not take
it and keep to it, then, whatever our intentions, however
much we rise aboye such things subjectively, our work will
drift backward into the service of domination.

v
This analysis of anthropology is radical at least in this, that
it accepts the contingency of anthropology and can envision
a world in which ir has no separate identity, One such world
would be partitioned against the very possibility of the study
of man as the study of others; each society's knowledge of
itself would be official property, if not official secrets. An-
other such world would be loose and open, integrated at
sorne levels, but comprising much diversity, part maintained
from the past, part emergent, as sufficiently autonomous
groups shaped their own cultural worlds. Neither world
would demand a profession of anthropology, but the one
might maintain it as an administrative tool, while the
other might well be permeated with the grand tradition and
the methodological spirit we think of as anthropological.
The first such world is possible enough. Herodotus' work
survived, not because ir was taken seriously as knowledge,
but because of his superb style; ir was only in the Renais-
 THE USE OF ANTHROPOLOGY • 55

sanee, as similar reports of remarkable customs began to

arrive from new travels, that Herodotus' reputation began
to be vindicated (Momigliano, 1966). In recent years in
Greece there has been little or no support for anthropology
as the study of other cultures; there is considerable support
for Laografia, the study of things traditionally Greek.
The second such world seems possible, if, as many now
advocate, the goals of the eighteenth-century "science of
freedom" (Cay's term) can be revitalized in the universal
terms required in our own day. Anthropology has passed
through the valIey of colonial domination and sequestered
much of its strength on departmental hilltops, but is never-
theless responding to the challenge of its time, creatively, in
many ways, and moving out onto the broad plain defined by
the interests of humanity.
There are many varied roles for work in the anthropolog-
ical tradition. With regard to dominated cultures, there is
work to help them survive, to preserve identity and dignity
as part of a larger sphere; there is work to help social trans-
forrnation and the emergen ce of new cultural forms. With
regard to the cultures of power, there is work to expose
them to scrutiny as careful as that which the powerless re-
ceive, to clarify the form and sources of their dominance,
and again to help in social transformation and the emerg-
ence of new cultural forms. For humanity as a whole, there
is the role of keeper of our secular origin myth, as discerned
through prehistory and biological evolution, and as keeper
in part of many truths, whose power appears only when one
considers the shapes of the ignorance that would replace
them. Most important of these are perhaps the evidence of
humanity as maker of its own history and the evidence of
human worth (d. Wolff's paper) and value to be found in
so many diverse conditions of life. That worth does not
equal wealth, but depends on autonomy, on freedom to
shape one's own destiny. Hunting and gathering peoples
such as the Eskimos and many North American Indians had
impoverished lives of material hardship, by our standards,
yet it is a matter of record that many white captives pre-
 Dell Hymes.· 56

ferred to stay with their lndian captors and that peoples

sueh as the Chinook of the Columbia River had no myth of
a Golden Age, but told of an earlier period in which things
had be en set right to prepare the lives they now ledo
Theoretical and comparative work will of necessity be
united with such work in other sectors of the study of mano
There will be convergence in ethnographic work, too, but
let me stress that good ethnography, building on the anthro-
pological tradition, will be of perennial importance, not
only for many reasons of general knowledge, but for specific
reasons as well. On the one hand, there is much that ethnog-
raphers do that is wanted done by local communities, from
preservation of languages and traditions (as in sorne Amer-
ican lndian communities today) to help with problems of
schools. On the other hand, where social transformation is in
question, Anna Louise Strong once said that if Lenin him-
self carne to your town, he would have to know what you
know about it before he could plan a revolution there.
Anthropologists themselves seem moved to three different
relationships to such work-that of critic and scholar within
the only institutional home provided for such in our society,
the academic world; that of working for communities, move-
ments, operational institutions; that of direct action as a
member of a community or movement. There is need for all
three, and no need to lay down a ukase, when talents, obli-
gations, and opportunities vary widely. Just two or three
things can be said. The critical and scholarly role is indis-
spensable (d. Lemisch, 1968, 1970; Wallerstein, 1971), es-
pecially given the present disarray and inadequacy of
relevant knowledge.i" Nevertheless, within the academy, a
redistribution of attention and prestige from graduate to
undergraduate training of anthropologists is important.
Given the opportunity, undergraduates could be trained
in anthropological work as well as graduate students, per-
haps better; much graduate time is spent on activities re-
quired, not for training, but for induction into the hegemony
of a particular department and a prospective profession. (On
 THE USE OF ANTHROPOLOGY • 57

graduate departments, see Palson, 1970.) Undergraduates

would be freer to acquire relevant training and do good
work, having in mind long-range plans not under the con-
trol of their teachers. The greatest contribution of anthro-
pology departments might be to send into the world many
lawyers, historians, activists, workers for various institutions
and agencies, well trained in anthropological work. This
might in turn be the only way in which adequate knowledge
of many sectors of society would eventually be gained. (As
a step in this direction, see Spradley and McCurdy, 1972.)
Much more needs to be considered, and much can hardly
be foreseen, if anthropology is to transcend its departmental
stage and become more truly a study of mankind, by man-
kind. 1 have given only illustrative suggestions. The story
will depend upon the community that is emerging within
and around departmental shells. At this point, there is no
single institutional structure or formulated doctrine that
can command general respect as adequate to anthropology's
situation in the world. There is a tradition on which we can
draw. Its intent is liberating, and our advantage, and chal-
lenge, is to understand the limitations that have kept the
tradition partial and far short of its goal. In our own lives
and commitments will be determined whether the tradition
shrivels or ftourishes within anthropology in the United
States. At the very least, we can resolve not to suffer gladly
bureaucratic nonsense, time-serving, professional pettiness,
and to keep attention on fundamental questions.
It should be cIear that my position, intellectual and social,
is more revisionist than revolutionary, regarding both an-
thropology and socialism, and regarding the tradition,
concerned with the general problem of the evolution of man-
kind, in which they share. Let me end by applying words of
a teacher and friend, from whom 1 have learned much about
both (Moore, 1969, p. 44):
What then may be expected from such revisionists?Nega-
tively, the rejection of obscurantist verbiage and incoherent
dreams, even when the verbiage and dreams are those of
 Dell Hymes . 58

Marx. Positively, an agreement to work, in the spirit of what

Marx called scientific socialism, for a just society and an
indiviclualistic culture-where the free development of each
is both enriched and restrained by the free development of
aH....
They will seek no New ]erusalem. Only a time whcn
human progress ceases to resemble tbat cruel god who scorned
to drink the nectar, except from the skulls of the slain.

VI
The first section of this book, "The Root Is Man," presents
a paper by an anthropologist who is a noted leader of efforts
to revitalize American anthropology, and a humanistic so-
ciologist, well known as a scholar of the major European
sociological traditions. Berreman addresses the current
malaise among anthropologists confronting the inadequacy
of the status quo in the field. Wolff speaks to the twin
radicalisms of a political and a humanistic bent, urging their
unity in this unprecedented time.
Despite conventional images of exotic islands and remote
jungles, anthropologists have been studying mostly cultures
that are not autonomous, but dominated. One contribution
of this book may be simply to call the situation by its right
name. In the section "Studying Dominated Cultures," Wil-
liam Willis indicts anthropology as a servant of its own
culture at the expense of others; he offers an effective oper-
ational definition of anthropology, in terms of "what
anthropologists do": it is the study of the colored peoples
of the world by white people. J ohn Szwed shows that the
central concept of American anthropology-that of culture
-has not been applied in its own society where Afro-Amer-
icans are concerned. Anthropologists, like others, have
mostly seen Afro-American life in terms of a priori polítical
considerations, missing the persistence and the emergence
of culture. Mina Caulfield begins with anthropology's lack
 THE USE OF ANTHROPOLOGY • 59

of an understanding of imperialism and develops a general

conception of it as domination of culture over culture.
Utilizing insights from Frantz Fanon, she stresses the cul-
tural dimensions not only of exploitation in colonial
situations, but also of the struggle to overcome exploita-
tion. Richard Clemmer analyzes yet another failure to
make universal and adequate use of the concept oí
culture by showing that assumptions as to the assimilation
of sorne American Indians have failed to see that their
resistance is not inertia, but an active cultural process.
These essays, though independent in origin, strikingly
converge. In complementary ways, they highlight past
and new challenges in the notion of the cultural. Conceived
as emergent and as truly universal, the concept can contrib-
ute vitally to understanding and transforming the con-
temporary world.
In the section "Studying· the Cultures of Power,"
the other complementary side of the world situation is ex-
plored. Eric Wolf, a leader of American anthropology,
sketches the background of the failure of anthropologists
to address themselves to questions of power, and the neces-
sity for them to do so. Eugene Anderson catches the
essence of the ecological crisis in the fact that great in-
equality of power makes it rational for both the powerful
and the powerless to do ecologically destructive things.
Laura Nader presents reasons why she and many students
are concerned to study the organized forces that shape
lives, and gives instances of this work. Norman Klein takes
on a different aspect of power-interpersonal domination-
and finds in the youth rebellion of the 1960sa refiection of
mainstream American society. His view was opposed by
a number of other contributors as one-sided, but his
analysis of that side is an essential warning against un-
suspected forms of ethnocentrism. It points as well to a
fiagrant gap-the lack of ethnographic analysis of cultural
hegemony and the state in our own society. Sol Worth un-
derscores how great is the need Ior such analysis, given the
 Dell Hymes . 60

projected role of electronic media in the years ahead. An-

thropologists are unprepared for the ethical and political
issues confronting them.
The theme of the "Responsibilities of Ethnography" is
taken up by Robert Jay in an exploratory, thoughtful at-
tempt to come to terms with the personal basis of ethno-
graphic work. Kenneth Hale has pioneered in efforts to
bring "informants" fully into collaboration. He makes the
case for such collaboration he re in terms of language, but
the argument can be extended to ethnography as a whole.
The final section returns to the theme of the first, "The
Root Is Man," adding the dimension "Critical Traditions."
Stanley Diamond shows the roots of anthropology in the
Enlightenment, focusing on Rousseau, and brings out the
relevance, in the nineteenth century, of Marx. Rejecting
the depersonalization he finds entailed in the structuralism
of Lévi-Strauss, Diamond calls for a renewal of the heritage
T:=Fresented by Rousseau and Marx, especially through the
perspective on human nature and cultural adequacy that
comes through knowledge of "primitive" cultures. He
sees anthropology's involvement with such cultures as a
permanent resource to both human and political radicalismo
Where Diamond calls for a critical, dialectical, and activist
anthropology, Scholte calls upon anthropology to turn criti-
cism upon itself, through comparative study of its own
traditions and their role in the shaping of anthropological
knowledge; through refiection on the inescapable personal
and emergent dimensions of ethnographic encounter, and
through efforts to develop anthropology toward an ernanci-
patory role.
This book is not as large as hope would have made it.
Limitations of space prevented inclusion of contributions
by George Appell on ethics, Roger Newman on a case
study of a corporation, Charles Palson on the structural
types of anthropology departments, and Trent Schroyer on
the tradition of critical theory, as developed by Jurgen
. Habermas. 1 am deeply sorry for this. 1 arn grateful to David
 THE U SE OF ANTHROPOLOGY • 61

Aberle, Dale Fitzgerald, Bernard Fontana, David Labby,

Sidney Mintz, Alfonso Ortiz, Lars Persson, David Schneider,
and William Sturtevant for correspondence and discussion
in the planning of the book; to Paula McGuire and James
Peck for tolerant sympathy of the pace at which it became
a manuscript; and to André Schiffrin, who invited me to
do the book on the strength of a critical review 1 had
written of another book he had published. Iles Minoff gave
invaluable help in final preparation of the manuscript, and
my wife, Virginia, much encouragement. Finally, an extra
debt of thanks to J ohn Szwed and to the Center for Urban
Ethnography, who made it possible for a number of us to
meet for a day's discussion in May 1971.

Notes
1. CE. Lévi-Strauss (1966, p. 126): "Anthropology . _ . is the outcome
of a historical process which has made the larger part .of mankind
subservient to the other, and during which millions of innocent
human beings have had their resources plundered and their institu-
tions and beliefs destroyed, whilst they thernselves were ruthlessly
killed, thrown into bondage, and contaminated by diseases they
were unable to resist. Anthropology is daughter to this era of
violence: Its capacity to assess more objectively the facts pertaining
to the human condition reflects, on the epistemological level, a
state of affairs in which one part of mankind treated the other as
.an object." Cf. LeClerc (1972) and Les Temps modernes (1971).
2. Cf. Berreman, Gjessing, and Gough (1968); Berreman (1971a);
Moore (J97J); Scholte (1972); the harsh assessment by Guiart
(1971), part 5, especially "L'Ethnologie utopique" (pp. 242-43) in
a book for the general public; the series "Anthropologie Critique,"
of which LeClerc (1972) is part; Lepenies (1971); the magazine
!Kung from the London School of Economics (1972); Critical
Anthropology (1970-) frorn the New School for Social Research;
and numerous discussions in the journal Current Anthropology and
in the pages of the N ewsletter of the American Anthropological
Association. Diamond (in press) and Barnett (in preparation) com-
plement the present book as does an anthology planned by Wash-
ington, D.C., members of Anthropologists for Radical Political
Action (a group formed in 1972).
3· A word about Marx. Only a few of the contributors to this book
would associate themselves with a Marxist tradition. One recognizes
 Dell Hymes 62

in any case that to profess Marxism is not to disclose too much,

since adherents of different varieties range from bureaucratic con-
servatives to adventurers. Just as Christians cannot fairly be held
responsible for a11 that has been believed and done in the name
of Christ, so for Marxists (and anthropologists). One is responsible
for one's own use, we hope critical and creative, of a tradition.
For myself, since about 1946, Marxism has been a major influence,
With Sartre (1963), 1 think it the general tradition in which to
situate one's individual talento Social science has grown and de-
fined itself to a great extent in relation to Marx, and we partly
continue to work out implications of his thought, important
portions of which have become publicly available only in the last
generation or two. (On work in direct relation to ethnology, see
the important monograph by Krader, and d. Kluckhohn, 1946;
Stern, 1949; Hobsbawm, 1964; Godelier, 1970.) In a sense, we
are waiting for a contemporary Marx (not necessarily a single
scholar) to penetrate with equal cogency our own situation. Mills
(1962, pp. 91-94) and Sartre (1963, esp. pp. 26, 30, 340 52, 56)
express much of my own sense of the situation. The Marx 1 have
learned from is mainly the historian, sociologist of knowledge, and
exponent of a humanismo Admiration for him has not succeeded
in blocking an affinity for the German idealism (Protestant and
secular) that preceded and followed his work (d. Hymes, 1964, pp.
18, 21). To this add an upbringing in Oregon that involved sorne
exposure to populist attitudes, a libertarian college, and an in-
clination toward pacifismo So much for personal confession.
4· Becker (1971, pp. 95-100) points out the significance of the 1904
essay. 1 read and excerpted it as a graduate student, and it has
shaped my sense of the subsequent history of anthropology, and of
the difference between the "spirit" and the structure of anthro-
pology, ever since; but Becker's treatment has made me appreciate
how it implica tes the prior history of anthropology as a symbolic
watershed. I recornmend the entire book, although 1 must disagree
with part of Becker's interpretation. His general thesis is that, in
sociology and in anthropology, a comprehensive goal-the welfare
of mankind through a social science-was subverted in the
twentieth century by the attempt to realize it through the building
of professions. Men like Boas, and Albion Small in sociology,
ironically narrowed the perspective of their successors to the
furthering of a discipline. Becker appears to neglect the extent
to which rejection of earlier formulations was due to scientific
advance, and he seems to call upon each discipline to recapture
the general goal in its own name. He speaks of Boas "dernoting"
anthropology to just a discipline among others; yet Boas' rejection
of a "rash imperialism" for anthropology (Becker, 1971, p. 96),
which Becker praises, is inseparable from his willingness to con-
sider anthropology as an approach utilized in many disciplines.
Beckerwrites: "But this study [of primitive culture] did not serve
ro illuminate any central problern, since anthropology could not
 THE USE OF ANTHROPOLOGY 63

handle its central problem but had given it over to the other
disciplines to share" (p. 103). Sharing is not loss; it can mean
mutual iIlumination of the central problem. Pursuit of the general
goal did decline, for a complex of reasons (postwar cynicism,
falling off of the level of general culture among anthropologists,
social origins and self-selection for the career of social scientíst):
but the return to it must be in the name, not of any one discipline,
but the study of man as a whole.
5. Kroeber wrote of his quite inductive effort to discern empirical
regularities in the ftourishing of civilizations as something that
had occupied his interest for as long as he could remember (1944),
but the years of work were to be set aside condescendingly, at a
session in tribute to Kroeber (Southwestern Anthropological As-
sociation, 1961), by a former student and president of the national
association, as reftecting his "philosophical interests." For an in-
troduction to substantive philosophy of history in terms of major
figures, see Walsh (1960, Chs, 6-8). Danto (lg68) is a lucid account
of the analytical approach, relevant, like the corresponding part
of Walsh's book, to general questions oí methodology in anthro-
pology; Lichtheim (lg65) takes the fundamental question of
philosophy of history to be that of consciousness, that ís, the rela-
tion between world history and rationality. He shows the con-
tinuity of the problem from the Enlightenment to our own day,
tracing different conceptions of the relation between reason, ideas,
and institutions, and considering the rationalist perspective,
common to both liberalism and Marxism, as creative of the pos-
sibility of a unified, peaceful world. Boas' lifelong devotion of his
anthropology to these goals is evident (d. Ig04, p. 524; 1908; pp.
26-28). See the just appraisal by Stern ([1943] 1959).
6. Cf. Henry (lg63, p. 146): "To think deeply in our culture is to
grow angry and to anger others; and if you cannot tolerate this
anger, you are wasting the time you spend thinking deeply. One
of the rewards of deep thought is the hot glow of anger at dis-
covering a wrong, but if anger is taboo, thought will starve to
death." And d. Bennett (1971, p. g): "The combination of the
two attitudes [commitment, objectivity] is foreign to American
social science because of the generations of separation of philosophy
from science-a divorce which has finally reaped the trouble so
often predicted for it. vVhat is needed is a passionate and dis-
passionate attempt to treat topics of central historical importance;
to believe in these topies-as for example, desirable social in-
novations-and also objectively assess their social costs as weH as
gains."
7. Gay, whose work 'on the Enlightenment 1 admire and learn much
from (see especially Ig66, 1969) shows that "the metaphysical claim
that progress is an inevitable process immanent in history ... has
been imputed to the [eighteenth-century] philosophes with great
frequency and little jusrice" (1971, p. 271). Unfortunately, Gay
describes such a claim with the term "theory of progress." That
 Dell Hymes 64

term should be retained in reference both to the philosophes and

our own work. Being committed to the future, major Enlighten-
ment writers did analyze the conditions of progress (d. Smith's
The Wealth 01 Nations, Ferguson's Essay on the History 01 Civil
Society, Robertson's History 01 Charles V). Their analytical work
contributed to a theory of the nature (not the inevitability) of
progress. As to the necessary function of Utopian thinking in the
positive sense, d. Finley (1967), and Kateb ([1963J 1972, pp. v--vii).
8. Note that while Danto rejects historical foreknowledge (Ch. 4), he
convincingly defcnds narrative as a form of causal explanation
(Ch. 11, esp. pp. 237, 255). He also grants rational belief as to the
future (p. 197) and the prediction of events within limits (pp. 200,
255)·
9. Bock (1956) provides an important critique of a long-standing
conception of general evolution as divorced in principle from
specific history. Such a conception has often influenced anthro-
pologists, who have felt constrained to choose one or the other;
their popular books often espouse sorne version of the first (d.
Moore, 1963, n. 35). Such a conception has also often been inter-
twined with Marxism. Nisbet (1969) is a cogent attack on a series
of assumptions underlying such a conception of development
throughout Western history, including its anthropological and
Marxist forms. For a differenr conception of a Marxian approach,
cf. Moore (1957, p. 123) on the dialectical method as a systematic
search for the concrete; Sartre on the concrete and on LeFebvre's
"regressíve" methodology (1963, pp. 26, 49-52); Therborn (1970,
pp_ 42-3) and Balbus (1971); and, on the aspect of theory and
practice, Lichtheim (1971, pp. 5, 25), and Bernstein's valuable
study (1971).
10. Danto distinguishes two kindsof substantive philosophy of history:
"A descriptive theory seeks to show a pattern amongst the events
which make up the past, and so to make the claim that events in
the future will either repeat or complete the pattern exhibited
amongst events in the past. An explanatory theory is an atternpt
to account for this pattern in causal terms."
11. On the relevance of critical historical understanding to rnan-
kind's future, d. Fischer (1970, pp. 317-18).
12. Cf. Boas (1904, p. 517, and 1908, p. 26): "This broader outlook
may also help us to recognize the possibility of lines of progress
which do not happen to be in accord with the dominant ideas
of our times." Cf. Marx: "The so-called historical development
amounts in the last analysis to this, that the last form considers
its predecessors as stages leading up to itself and perceives them
always one-sidedly, since it is very seldom and only under certain
conditions that it is capable of self-criticism" (quoted from A
Contribution lo the Critique of Political Economy by Lévi-
Strauss [1958, p. 337]).
13. Boas insisted that "it is impossible to exclude any part of mankind
 THE USE OF ANTHROPOLOGY 65

from the considerations of anthropology" (lg08, p. g; d. Ig04, p.

S22b), because of its concern with the culture of the world as a
whole; concern for explanation could not be restricted to what
had affected our own civilization in the past.
14. A reprint of much of the only English translation is now available
in Manuel (lg68). As so often with older works relevant to the
history of anthropology, parts of specific interest to anthropology
are omitted, but the general chapters (Herder's Books VII, VIII,
and XV, reprinted as Chapters 1 and 2, "National Genius and the
Environment," "Humanity the End of Human Nature") give in-
sight into Herder's achievement. On Herder's significance, cf.
Bamard (lg6S), Bruford (lg62), and Cassirer (lgso, Ch. 12).
IS. In RecIus ([188S] 1891, pp. xiii-xiv) one finds already perhaps the
first conscious adoption of the "ethnographic present": "These
studies are drawn, for the most part, from the information given by
travellers and missionaries during the first half of the century,
about countries of which the social condition has since been
deeply modified.... I shall, however, speak in the present tense."
From another standpoint, the change was not simply the "infiux
of traders and manufacturers" of which RecIus spoke, but a new
domination: "In the 18S0Sand after, one could be objective about
the Indian as one could not have been ten, twenty, or thírty
years before; one could be objective about a creature who had
been reduced to the status oí a specimen picked up on a field
trip. One could move toward scientific analysis and away from
pity and censure." (Pearce, Ig53, p. 12g)
16. Our present concern at loss of significance, both as to explanatory
scope and as to a personal, dynamic dimension, was already ex-
pressed in the period between the two World Wars. Academic
anthropology can be said to have crystallized in textbooks and
paradigmatic studies about Ig20. Of one of the latter, Lowie's
notable Primitive Society (1920), Kroeber wrote (1920, pp. 380,
381) that it was
a clear and fair representative of what modern ethnology has
to offer.... Modern ethnology says that so and so happens,
and may tell why it happened thus in that particular case.
It does not tell, and does not try to tell, why things happen
in society as such.... [but] That branch of science which
renounces the hope of contributing at least something to the
shaping of human life is headed into a blind alley. T'here-
fore, if we cannot present anything that the world can use,
it is at least incumbent on us to let this failure burn into
ou;- consciousness.
Lówie had earlier maintained (1917, p. 4) that kinship terrninology
was a subject in which Morgan was able to arouse the interest of
hundreds of laymen, so he saw no reason why an up-to-date ex-
position should not hold their attention (in a set of public
 Dell Hymes 66

Iectures): but Morgan, as Kroeber noted in his 1920 review, had

related kinship to the general problem of the evolution of man-
kind.
Again, concerned that "anthropology must find more of a task
than filling with rubble the temporarily vacant spaces in the
masonry that the sciences are rearing," Kroeber (1923, p. 2) urged
in the first general textbook on the subject that, in the new era,
"the interpretation of those phenomena into which both organic
and social causes en ter" (both biological and cultural causes)
provided a true scientific focus and ultimate goal for anthropology
(1923, pp. 3-4). (Kroeber also mocked the idea of anthropology as
[in 1920] one of the "newer sciences" [p. 379].) Concern with
neglect of personal and dynamic dimensions was expressed in the
period especially by Radin and Sapir (see Vidich [1966] on Radin,
and Hym_es[1970] on Sapir).
17. A growth predicted by MacCurdy (1902) for the beginning of the
century, as a consequence of United States expansion after the
Spanish-American War, but largely delayed until after two further
wars.
18. The image of a world partitioned among fixed, individually
named cultures has sornetimes served anthropological careers
more than human knowledge. By attaching one's own name to a
cultural name, one secured property rights and a professional
niche, while others, anthropologists and members of the culture
alike, might wait indefinitely for meaningful results.
19- On the scientific success of such "objectivity," d. as against Lévi-
Strauss' apparent belief in it (1966), Macquet (1964) and P'Bitek
(1972), as well as Willis in this volume.
20. On the general issue, d. Beinfield (1970); Berman's analysis (1970)
of sources of the issue in the Enlightenment with Montes-
quieu and Rousseau and his introduction, "The Personal is
Political"; Diamond (1967, 1971) on an evolutionary perspective:
and Hall (1971) on methodological perspective. Sartre (1963,
p. 56) is paradigmatic here: "Valéry is a petit bourgeois inteIlectual,
no doubt about it. But not every petit bourgeois .intellectual is
Valéry. The heuristic inadequacy of contemporary [official]Marx-
ism is contained in these two sentences." Cf. also Lichtheim (1971,
.p. 21). The ethnographie implieations of sueh a perspectivo are
broached by Brown (1972) and Fabian (1971), and by Jay in this
volume.
21. Of Sapír's socially oriented comments in the 1930S (closely linked
to his development of a personal perspective on culture), Harris
remarked (1951, pp. 332-33):

So refreshing is this [pre-World War II] freeness and critical-

ness that we are brought to a sharp realization of how such
writing has dísappeared from the scene. In part, this was the
writing of pre-administrative anthropology. _ . _ In part, too
... the difference between the atmosphere of a depression
 THE USE OF ANTHROPOLOGY 67
period and the atmosphere of the continuous war period
which replaced it. And in part it was Sapir.
22. CL Fortes (1953, pp. 1-2): "For as they [the founders of anthro-
pology at Cambridge] insistently taught, anthropological studies
cannot flourish in isolation, either in one place or in one academic
compartment .... For advances in anthropological knowledge are
inseparable from advances in related human sciences." And d.
again Tax, 1955·
That the problem is general to the social sciences is indicated in
many sources, e.g., Roszak (1968) and subsequent books in the
"antitext" series; Ferkiss (1971, p. 844) on the trained incapacity
fostered by professional specialization in departments in political
science; by a series of writings in sociology in the last decade (d.
Stein and Vidich, 1963; Moore, 1963; Stein, 1963; Stein 1967;Lazars-
Ield, SeweIl, and Wilensky, 1967; Gouldner,· 1970; Colfax and
Roach, 1971; D. Horowitz, 1971); by general analyses of depart-
mental and disciplinary failings (Campbell, 1969; Wolfle, 1971);
that the problem is not confined to anthropology in the United
States is indicated, for example, by Worsley (1970); Banaji (1970),
by HuItkrantz' penetrating comparison (1968), and Halpern and
Hammel's interpretation of the Yugoslav situation(Jg69, p. 22):
ethnography as a social science developed :::5 a response to
colonial pressure and followed the retreating lines of crum-
bling empires as a major ideological contribution to the
unification of South Slavs against non-Slavs, but ... ir was
limited to those social goals, whatever its scientific objec-
tives may have been .... the marked changes in Yugoslav
society over the past quarter-century have left traditional
ethnography behind. The cart has run before the faithful
horse; ethnography and ethnology have become conservative
and traditionalistic and are held in low repute by other
social scientists.
Birnbaum writes with Marxist sociology in mind, and, despite
institutionalization of the subject in the Soviet Un ion and else-
where, clearly the spirit of the Marxist tradition is expressed by
the leading French communist theorist, Louis Althusser, when he
remarks of inteIlectuals (1970, p. 7):
With a few exceptions, they are still "dabbling'" in political
economy, sociology, ethnology, "anthropology," "social psy-
chology," etc. ... Their "theories" are ideological anachro-
nisms, rejuvenated with a large does of inteIlectual subtleties
and ultra-modern mathematical techniques.
Discussing the impact of imperialism on the sector of the world
traditionaIly studied by anthropologists, Banaji (1970, p. 85) is
quite specific:
Marxist anthropologists must expose the myth that anthro-
pology has any future as an integrated discipline.
 Dell Hymes • 68

But, as Birnbaum states, Marxism itself is generally in the same

boat as specific disciplines, when it comes to revitalizing "Marx's
refusal to separate the different academic disciplines" (Hobsbawm,
1964, p. 16). See especially his sections on "The Analysis of Cul-
ture" and "The Marxist Anthropology."
24. Although sorne come near to suggesting it, e.g., Leslie White in
his presidential address of 1964; see the response by Haas (1965).
25. Note the new series edited by Struever (1972-), including books
by Binford (1972) and McGimsey (1972), and the new series con-
cerned with the application of different sciences to archaeology,
edited by Dimbleby (1972-). Schuyler (1970, pp. 87-88) foresees
that
just as Kathleen G. Aberle (1967) has called upon ethnog-
raphy to study not only conquered non-Western cultures
but also the process of imperialism itself, so Historie Sites
Archaeology can make a major contribution to modern
anthropology by studying the processes of European ex-
pansion, exploration, and colonization as well as those of
culture contact and imperialísm, that underlie one of the
most dynamic periods of world history and which are
refíected in both artifactual and documentary data.
The orientation of the "new archeology" is indicated in Ham-
mond (1971).
26. Cf. Worsley (1970, p. 127): "A few anthropologists have taken the
major alternative open to those who seek to assert the distinctive-
ness of their discipline; they define it in terms of its techniques
and methods, rather than in terms of substantive subject matter.
Firth, notably, has increasingly come to lay stress, over the years,
on anthropology as 'micro-sociology,' rather than 'the science of
primitive socíety.' " Note that the Boasian conception of anthro-
pology's contribution to other fields is equivalent to the approach
taken by the Anthropology Curriculum Study Project in designing
educational materials (1972, p. 6):
To the extent that anthropology had been seriously con-
sidered in the high school curriculum, the tendency had
been to see it as separare frorn school history. The ACSP
assumption was that the most (perhaps 0111)') desirable results
would come from a blending of the two, from the effeet on
the teaching of history of including anthropology in the
currículum. The assumption was that selected ideas and
data from anthropology should be dispersed throughout the
curriculum-in social studies.: biology; and other courses.
27. It is encouraging to see steps within the American Anthropologi-
cal Association toward greater equality of recognition and role
for the three (d. Ad Hoe Planning Committee, 1972; Executive
Board, 1972).
 THE USE OF ANTHROPOLOGY• 69

28. See the analysís of such a pattern by Lasch (1972). T'here are
penetrating comments by students on the bases of sorne ca lIs for
"unity" and "excellence," e.g., Students (1969; pp. 56-58), Selwyn
(1972, p. 8). Departmental views of reality would seem to fit one or
both of the two types of mystification dissected by Marx (see the
paralIel explications by Moore (1957, pp. 118-22) and Geras
(1971, pp. 84-85).
29. Past experience with attempts to uníte the social sciences from
the top downward should warn us against empire-building in the
name of interdisciplinary perspectivos, just as much as in the
name of departrnental unity (and isolation). Perhaps a talisman
against such things is provided by Sid Caesar:
REPORTER:How about the fact that archaeology is a science
that is very closely allied to anthropology as well as to sorne
aspects of comparative sociology? How about the fact that
these sciences overlap and complement each other and to-
gether fonn an overall science of mankind?
LUDWIGVONFOSSIL:How about that?
30. See Horowitz, ed. (1967), and especially Sahlins, Nisbet, and
Horowitz therein; and d. Berreman (1969 and 1917b) and 1. Horo-
witz (1971).
31. The controversy can be followed in the Neuisletter of the Amer-
ican Anthropological Association from spring 1970 through early
1972; see also Woif and Jorgensen (1970) and Jones (1971). A book
on the subject is in preparation by Herbert J. Phillips.
32. Cf. resolution adopted by the Interriational Union of Anthro-
pological and Ethnological Sciences in 1968 (Hohenwart-Gerlach-
stein, 1968); the efforts and publications of the International
Work Group for Indigenous Affairs (IWGIA), founded in 1968
(Frederiksholms Kanal 4A, DK 1220, Copenhagen K, Denrnark):
the appointment of an international committee on genocide and
forced acculturation by the IUAES (chaired by Fredrik Barth,
Bergen, Norway): the incorporation of SURVIVAL by David and
Pia Maybury-Lewis (Harvard Universíty); the set of papers on
ethnocide pubJished in Anuario Indigenista 30 (December 1970);
the motion of ethnocide adopted by the American Anthropological
Association (see Newsletter 12, No. 6: 16 [1971]).
33. Besides papers in this volume, d. NACLA (1970) and Africa
Research Group (1971).
34. Cf. the varying choices recommended by Ellman (1972), Moore
(1971), Woodburn (1972), Valentine (1972), and the discussants
of ]orgensen, Adams, and Jones (allI971).
35. Critical research on the culture itself is important; d. the con-
trasting reviews of Roszak (1969) by Wolff (1971), who states that:
Roszak may be right that OUT young people are fleeing from
the ideal of reason, but to encourage them in their flight is
to play into the hands of reaction
 Dell Hymes 70

and by Hill (1970, p. 103):

Roszak is not advocating a harking back to the primitive, as
the philistine critics of Rousseau would surely chant in
unison, rather, the drug experience, the current attraction to
Eastern religions and the primitive all serve as antitheses
upon which we will probably form the synthesis .for times
to come-they al! represent something that is missing in our
impoverished culture. . . . Once it is accepted that the
disaffiliated are in fact more radical than the most radical
Marxists because they oppose Western culture and not
merely Western politics and economics, it is easy to expand
this idea to all aspects of OUl"society.
On the role of scholarship and research, d. Bennett (1971),
Lemisch (1968, 1970), and Wallerstein (1971), who state views that
are very much my own, especially Wallerstein (1971, p. 475):
The first need for the American left is intellectual clarifica-
tion of the ways in which American and world society can
and will transform itself into a socialist society.
But d. also Dalton (1971).

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